
Class. 
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•TAMLET, AN IDEAL PRINCE 

AND OTHER ESSAYS IN 

SHAKESPEAREAN 
INTERPRETATION 

Hamlet; Merchant of Venice; Othello; King Lear 



BY 

ALEXANDER W CRAWFORD, 

M.A. (Toronto), Ph.DV (Cornell). 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MANITOBA, 
AUTHOR OP "the PHILOSOPHY OF F. H. JACOBI." 




BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER 

TORONTO: THE COl'P CLARK CO.. LIMITED 



CoPTBiGHT. 1816. BT Richard G. Badqjeb 
All Rights Reserved 



Ah 



^<'i'"' 




\m 24 1916 

Made in the U nited St ate* of America 
The Gorham IVesa, Borton. U. S. A. 



©CI.A4465S2 



TO THE MEMORY OF 
THE LATE 

PROFESSOR HIRAM CORSON, M.A., LL.D., Litt.D. 

OP CORNELL UNIVERSITY, 

WHO FIRST TAUGHT ME THAT THERE ARE 

MORE THINGS IN — SHAKESPEARE 

THAN ARE DREAMT OF IN OUR PHILOSOPHY. 



PREFACE 

THE three hundredth year of Shakespeare's death 
seems an appropriate time to offer to the public 
new interpretations of some of the great dram- 
atist's greatest plays. The earnest study of the 
past three centuries has by no means exhausted the 
wealth of meaning contained in these master-pieces. 
The present Shakespeare revival not only discloses an 
increasing interest in the dramas as plays, but reveals 
a recognition beyond that of any preceding age of their 
inestimable educational value as an unequalled part 
of the world's great literature. It is clear that both as 
plays and as literature the dramas of Shakespeare are 
assuming greater importance in the intellectual and 
spiritual life of the world. 

It is therefore highly desirable that the plays should 
be studied anew in the light of our present knowledge 
of his times, and of our present attitude toward them 
as works of literature and dramatic art. Dramas that 
have so many of the qualities of great literature are 
likely to meet with more adequate comprehension by 
later ages than b}^ their own contemporaries, for as 
Ben Jonson said, they are for all time. 

No further excuse, then, is needed for another at- 
tempt to interpret some of the plays than the fact that 
we do not feel satisfied with existing interpretations. 
There is doubtless more in Shakespeare than critics have 
as yet succeeded in bringing out, and we shall not rest 
satisfied until we understand him. Shakespeare is not 
misty or obscure, but he is profound, and it will take 

5 



6 Preface 

many more generations of scholars to exhaust his great 
wealth of meaning. 

Like all students of any literature I am indebted to 
the many scholars and critics who have worked in the 
field before me, but like every student of Shakespeare 
I am under a special obligation to Dr. Furness's Vario- 
rum editions of the plays. These scholarly editions 
contain most of the materials necessary for a careful 
study of both the text and the criticism of the 
plays. But for the attitude I have taken toward the 
plays as works of dramatic art and interpretations of 
human life I am indebted more than to any other to my 
former teacher, the late Professor Hiram Corson of 
Cornell University. 

The view of Hamlet herein presented was first pub- 
lished in the University Magazine (Montreal), April, 
1910, but the essay has been entirely re-written and 
expanded beyond what was possible within the narrow 
limits of a magazine article. The other essays have 
not previously been published, though their substance 
has been given to several generations of students in my 
classes. 

All quotations of Shakespeare's texts occurring in the 
essays are taken from Furness's Variorum editions, 
though modern spellings have been adopted. 

A. W. Crawford. 
University of Manitoba, 
June, 1916. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter I. page 

Introductory— The Interpretation of Shakespeare 11 

Chapter II. 
Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 21 

Chapter III. 
The Merchant of Venice, or Shakespeare's Christian and Jew . . 129 

Chapter IV. 
Othello: The Tragedy of a Moor in Venice 173 

Chapter V. 
King Lear: A Tragedy of Despotism 247 

NOTES. 

Note A. The Staging of the First Scene of Hamlet .... 291 

Note B. Horatio, and his Part in the Play 293 

Note C. EamleU III. iv. 122-130 295 

Note D. Othello's Color, and its Dramatic Significance . . . 298 

Index 303 



INTRODUCTORY 



THE INTERPRETATION OF SHAKESPEARE 



HAMLET, AN IDEAL PRINCE 

CHAPTER I 
INTRODUCTORY 

THE INTERPRETATION OF SHAKESPEARE 



EACH age since Shakespeare has had its own 
method of approach to his plays, and has con- 
sequently had its own interpretations. The 
chief characteristic of the present study of Shake- 
speare is that it is endeavoring to look at his plays as 
dramas and as Elizabethan productions. There are 
still, however, some writers of the present day who do 
neither of these things. 

There have been since the early days of the drama 
two types of dramatic construction. In the first of 
these the story has been the point of greatest interest ; 
and in the other the characters have assumed the great- 
est importance and the story has become but a place for 
the characters to exhibit themselves. The Miracle 
Plays were constructed for the one purpose of teaching 
the people the Bible stories, and the narrative was, 
therefore, all-important. The Morality Plays, on the 
other hand, contained only a very slender and often 
poorly constructed narrative, and their purpose was to 
set before the people the nature of the various vir- 

11 



12 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

tues and vices. Both types of plays necessarily con- 
sisted of both character and plot, but in the one 
the story was emphasized, and in the other the 
characters. 

This distinction may be observed throughout the en- 
tire history of the drama. Some of the dramatists 
make everything of the story, while others make ever}'- 
thing of the characters. Marlowe, the first of the great 
dramatists, places the dramatic emphasis upon the 
story, which he takes either from history or from some 
well-known legend, though he does not by any means 
neglect the elucidation of his characters. Ben Jon- 
son's plays, on the other hand, are slim narratives, 
usually of his own invention, upon which he suspends his 
characters. His plays are full of episodes which do not 
help forward the plot, but are intended only as exhibi- 
tions of character. Shakespeare, in the construction 
of his plays, and under the inspiration of his own 
genius, followed the line laid out by Marlowe, and chose 
his narratives from the historians, or from the earlier 
dramatists and novelists. He seldom invented his own 
stories, as did Jonson, but utilized the familiar stories, 
and breathed into them a new life and depth of mean- 
ing that made them the vehicles of his own conceptions 
of life and conduct. 

In the hand of Shakespeare, then, the drama is 
primarily a fictitious narrative, and belongs to the 
literature of stories. It does not follow, however, that 
he has in any way neglected his characters. He is in- 
deed the one supreme dramatist who develops both char- 
acter and story, but who develops his characters always 
entirely within his narratives. Unlike Jonson, who ap- 
parently first conceived his characters and then invented 
his stories to suit them, Shakespeare seems first to have 



Interpretation of Shakespeare 13 

selected his narratives, and then with consummate skill 
to have developed his characters. 

n 

Shakespeare's dramas are, therefore, first of all 
stories, but stories in which the characters are real 
persons whom we come to know only as we see their 
exits and their entrances. Forgetting this, critics have 
spent much energy upon quite useless character studies, 
as if the dramas were sets of character poses, or 
studies in still life. Even in such dramatists as Jonson 
we know the characters only by what they do, for they 
have no existence outside the dramas, and cannot be 
considered apart from the narratives. But in Shake- 
speare's drama the narrative is the thing. It is there- 
fore fatal to a proper interpretation of his works to 
disregard, as some critics have done, and to discard, as 
others have done, certain elements of the stories as 
having no significance for an understanding of his 
plays. 

The simple truth is that it is in the stories rather 
than in the characters of his dramas that Shakespeare 
reveals the creative imagination and intelligence of 
the true dramatist. The very fact that he invented 
de novo very few of his stories, but took them from 
earlier literature, indicates that to him the narrative 
was the first requisite for a drama. In the case of 
those he borrowed he frequently changed the storj^ to 
make it serve better the genius of his thought, and in 
every instance improved both the story and the char- 
acters. As the one incomparable genius, he under- 
stood the true relations of all the dramatic elements, 
and stamped his mind and his view of life quite as 



14 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

much upon his narratives as upon his characters. In 
fact, it is the plot that gives character to his persons of 
the drama, not the persons to the plot. There is prob- 
ably no turn of plot or development of narrative that 
has not been thought out in a manner that will best 
develop his own independent dramatic purpose. He 
was the perfect master of narrative, and moulded it 
thoroughly into the form that would completely ex- 
press his thoughts and his view of human life. 

In the case of a dramatist who gives so much atten- 
tion to the construction of his plots and the develop- 
ment of his narratives as Shakespeare, it is especially 
important to study carefully the conclusions and issues 
of the dramas. As with the entire course of the 
dramatic narrative, there is every reason for thinking 
that he framed them in every case after his own ideas 
of dramatic appropriateness. To assume with Dr. 
Johnson and many later critics that Shakespeare spent 
no thought on his conclusions is only to show that 
thought is not easily recognized when expended upon 
the construction of a drama. There is no evidence of 
carelessness, whatever, and the only proper attitude for 
the critic is to assume that in every particular the 
conclusions are as Shakespeare wished them. The des- 
tinies assigned to the various persons of the drama 
probably conform exactly to his conceptions of poetic 
justice. In Shakespeare, character makes destiny, and 
the destiny assigned to any person of the drama is 
likely to be the dramatist's verdict upon that person's 
character. 

m 

It is high time for us to permit Shakespeare to be 
the author of his own dramas, and to regard him as 



Interpretation of Shakespeare le5 

at least as good an interpreter of life as the critics. 
We have not yet entirely outlived the eighteenth cen- 
tury notion that Shakespeare is sadly in need of 
critical revision, though nothing profitable has ever 
come out of that conception. Let us conclude that 
Shakespeare, like other great authors, probably said 
what he meant and meant what he said, and grant him 
the privilege of saying, "What I have written I have 
written." ^ 

But Shakespeare is an Elizabethan dramatist. Of 
late there has arisen a fantastic and imaginative type 
of criticism that endeavors to make Shakespeare thor- 
oughly modern, and refuses to admit Elizabethan 
notions at all. There is no doubt an absolute value in 
such great works of art as the Shakespearean dramas, 
but the best can be got from them only if they are 
regarded as sixteenth century productions. Shake- 
speare's ideas have not been outgrown, but they are best 
seen in their original setting. We have not advanced so 
much that the greatest thoughts of the greatest Eng- 
lishman on matters of human life have been outgrown 
in the process of time since Elizabeth's day. At any 
rate there need be no hesitation in letting Shakespeare 
shoulder his own responsibility without undue solicitude 
on the part of after generations. 

Another phase of the modernizing spirit is seen in 
the disposition of some critics to reject any plain 
interpretation of Shakespeare, seemingly on the as- 
sumption that only what is hazy is great, and only 

^ This is not meant, of course, to disparage that sort of textual 
criticism and revision whose aim is to recover for us as far as 
possible the exact words of the dramatist. It is only because 
this has been done so well that we are now able to enter with 
confidence upon the larger interpretation of the real dramatic 
import of the plays. 



16 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

wliat is mystical or mystoriovis is profound, and only 
wliat is incomprehensible is truly artistic. Because 
Shakespeare is the greatest of dramatists, it would 
seem that he is to be understood as not understandable, 
and must be conceived as inconceivably deep. He is 
not permitted to think clearly, for this would not show 
greatness ; and he must not state his meanings point- 
edly, for this would not be artistic. No interpretation 
can be allowed which is obvious, and especially none 
that would have any meaning for Elizabethans. These 
apparent friends of Shakespeare would make the in- 
terpretation of the dramas as mystical as the 
Baconians would make the authorship. 

IV 

Holding, then, that Shakespeare's plays must be 
studied as Elizabethan dramas, I have tried to 
approach them in the historical spirit, and have tried 
to understand them as they are, without assuming 
them to be unintelligible, and without devising plans 
for their improvement. Few of the vexatious questions 
of Shakespearean scholarship have any direct bearing 
on problems of narrative, on which alone interpretation 
depends. The approximately correct text with which 
scholars have at last furnished us is a valuable aid to 
true interpretation, but not invaluable. The dis- 
covery of the sources for so many of the plays is 
always very interesting, and in many cases suggestive, 
for frequently the most significant turns of narrative 
are found to be of Shakespeare's own invention. The 
historical investigations that have been carried on have 
also enabled us in some measure to see the plays as did 
the audiences for whom they were written, and this has 



Interpretation of Shakespeare 17 

given us our method of approach. But the plays 
themselves as finished works of art, perfect and entire, 
are after all the only works that come to us directly 
from the master's hand. And the secrets of Shake- 
speare are for him that neither taketh from nor addeth 
to his words. 



HAMLET: 

AN IDEAX PRINCE 



CHAPTER n 
HAMLET: 

AN IDEAIi PRINCE 



Interpretation of the Play. 

After three centuries of acting and more than a 
century of critical study we are still wondering what 
Shakespeare meant by his play of Hamlet. More has 
been written about the play and the character than 
about any historical person, with a single exception, 
and yet no satisfactory explanation has been reached, 
and we are still trying to solve the riddle of the drama. 
The acknowledged difficulties in all the theories have 
led some critics to the conclusion that the trouble is 
with the play itself, and that no theory can hope to 
reach a complete and satisfactory explanation. Pro- 
fessor Lewis has recently said that "The difficulties that 
confront any theory about Hamlet induce at last a 
belief that no single theory is admissible — that neither 
the play nor the character is a consistent whole." ^ 

The usual interpretations of Hamlet make it a very 
curious and mysterious but not a great play, and the 
Prince a very interesting psychological phenomenon 
but not a great character. Critics have said that it is 
an inconsistent and rambling play, and tlic Prince a 

^ The Genesis of Hamlet, by Charlton M. Lewis, p. '20. New 
York, Henry Holt & Co., 1907. 

21 



22 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

weak and irresolute character. The intelhgence of the 
world, however, has not been content to regard either 
the play or the character as an enigma or as a common- 
place. The persistent conviction of the play-going 
public, which in the case of Hamlet means the intelli- 
gent and scholarly public, is that it is a great play and 
a noble character, the greatest play and the greatest 
character in all dramatic literature. No theory can 
satisfy the public, therefore, which does not see in the 
play something majestic and in the character some- 
thing noble and grand. 

Whatever may be our present difficulties with the 
play or the character, there is no evidence that either 
presented any great problems to the play-goers in the 
da3^s of Elizabeth. There is abundant evidence that 
Hamlet was one of the most popular of Shakespeare's 
plays in the dramatist's own day, as in ours, and it is 
fair to assume that it was not a puzzle to them, but 
presented some rather definite meaning about which 
there was general agreement. It is altogether unlikely 
that it could attract so much attention in such a prac- 
tical age if the play was to them the riddle it has become 
to us. The men of the adventurous and stirring times 
of Elizabeth were not much given to speculation, after 
the supposed manner of Hamlet, but were interested 
chiefly in the practicaJ affairs of the individual and of 
the nation. The literature that was popular in those 
days had to do mostly with the exciting events of the 
time in church or state, and the great popularity of 
Hamlet suggests that the play may have had some 
such significance. Great works of literature generally 
have a deep meaning for tlie age for which they are 
produced, and seldom fail entirely of comprehension. 
They become mysterious only to after generations, 



Hamlet 23 

when the local and temporal conditions have changed, 
or when some phase of their content has been over- 
looked. The clue must then be found in a reconsidera- 
tion of the work and of the conditions of its original 
production. 

Theories of Hamlet. 

It has become apparent to most students of Hamlet 
that no existing theory of the play is entirely satis- 
factory. The usual interpretations all alike fail to 
account for the unequalled interest always shown by 
the public in both play and character. The two out- 
standing theories doubtless contain much that is 
valuable, though they have also much that is valueless. 
The Goethe-Coleridge theory, especially, has done in- 
justice to the character of Hamlet, and has even become 
a great obstacle to a proper interpretation of the 
play. As Professor Corson says : "I am disposed to 
think that Coleridge and Goethe, by the substantially 
similar theories they advanced, in regard to the man, 
Hamlet, contributed more, especially Goethe (as he 
exercised a wider authority than Coleridge), toward 
shutting off a sound criticism of the play, than any 
other critics or any other cause." ^ 

The Goethe-Coleridge theory is the chief source of 
the notion that Hamlet is a victim of procrastination. 
These two great critics have made much of Hamlet's 
delay in carrying out the injunctions of the ghost, 
and have attributed it to a certain irresoluteness of 
character. They have said that the difficulties were all 
internal, and claim that Hamlet is too deficient of will 
or too overbalanced of mind to carry any plans into 

* Introduction to Shakespeare, by Hiram Corson, p. 213. Boston, 
D. C. Heath & Co. 



24 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

execution. 

Ulrici was probabl}' the first to repudiate such 
inherent deficiencies in the character of the Prince.^ 
Present-daj- readers are ready to endorse Ulrici, and 
to assert that on the contrary Hamlet is "a power- 
fully and liealthily endowed nature, with the most bril- 
liant gifts of mind and heart." - Professor Bradley 
says he is "a heroic, terrible figure. He would have 
been formidable to Othello or Macbeth." ^ Professor 
Lewis tells us that ''In Kyd's play Hamlet was not 
guilty of procrastination," and he says he "cannot be- 
lieve Hamlet is to blame for an^^ irresoluteness." It is 
also true, as he further says, that ''audiences do not 
condemn Hamlet as a weakling; they are with him all 
the time." ^ 

The attempts to make it appear that Hamlet is in- 
capable, that he is guilty of indecision and procrastina- 
tion, have not satisfied the public any better than the 
critics. In the early part of the play he seems to them 
exceedingly forceful and capable of almost anything. 
The play impresses audiences with the idea that he is 
laboring under some sort of restraint. Hamlet does 
not have to urge himself forward, but to hold himself 
back. His words after his first interview with the 
players, that have been taken as an excuse for his 
inability to act, are rather a bitter self-reproach for 
not acting without further evidence of the king's guilt, 
an upbraiding of himself for permitting himself to be 
restrained. In the next moment, however, he sees the 
folly of this, and satisfies himself that it is much better 

^Cf. Furness, Variorum Hamlet, Vol. II, pp. 992-3. 
' Oechelhauser, English trans, in Furness, 11., p. 341. 
' Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 102-3. London, 2nd edition, 
1905. 
* The Genesis of Hamlet, pp. 88, 92, 96. 



Hamlet 25 

to wait for further evidence. The spirit he has seen 
may be the devil, but the play will reveal beyond doubt 
the king's guilt or innocence. It is the part of wis- 
dom, then, to wait for the evidence. 

These elements of the situation have been much better 
understood by the Klein-Werder theory. This theory 
definitely repudiates the view of Hamlet's character 
that regards him as incapable, and as a weakling. It 
views the difficulties of the prince as external rather 
than internal, and explains the delay as necessary in 
order to procure adequate corroboration of the revela- 
tions of the ghost. Hamlet has had suspicions which 
are verified only by the ghost, though by nothing that 
would convince any one but himself, and not sufficient 
to warrant even him in taking the life of his uncle. 
The ghost, too, had told him not to harm his mother, 
and this very greatly hampers him in the execution of 
his task. To strike the king without at the same 
time striking the queen requires the highest wisdom and 
the most dexterous skill. 

Werder does not regard Hamlet's task as the mere 
killing of the king, but the execution of justice upon 
the king. He says, "His task is justly to punish the 
murderer of his father . . . and to satisfy the Danes 
of the righteousness of his action." -^ Hamlet is called 
upon to "revenge" his father, not merely to kill the 
murderer of his father. The process of vengeance is 
very different from the act of slaying. To kill the 
king at any time he chanced to meet him might be 
comparatively easy, but it would be only "hire and 
salary, not revenge" (III. iii. 79), and would only com- 
plicate and not fulfil his true mission. Hamlet's task is 

^ The Heart of Hamlet's Mystery, English trans, by Wilder, 
p. 54. New York, 1907. 



26 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

more than to take the life of the king. He must bring 
him to justice and if possible to confession, that he may 
himself appear justified before the people, and before 
his own conscience. 

This theory, then, gives a better explanation of 
Hamlet's conception of his duty than any other, and 
fails only because it comes short of the full explana- 
tion. Werder does not seem to understand the larger 
social and political aims of Hamlet, and therefore 
cannot assign a motive sufficient to account for his 
course throughout the play. On the Werder theory, 
the play must be called a tragedy of failure, for Hamlet 
never did succeed in publicly convicting the king of his 
crime and of justifying his execution. The theory has 
made a notable advance upon the Goethe-Coleridge 
theory, but cannot be said to have plucked out the 
heart of Hamlet's mystery. Both of these classic 
theories fail, as all others fail, because they persistently 
ignore certain parts of the play as written by Shake- 
speare. Some of these elements are in the original 
sources of the drama, and some of them have been added 
by Shakespeare himself. It is these overlooked fea- 
tures of his play that distinguish Shakespeare from 
all other dramatists, and raise his play above the many 
others of personal revenge, and place it in a class 
entirely by itself. And it is these parts that alone can 
furnish the key to the entire mystery. 

The Mystery of Life, 

With the failure of all theories to explain Hamlet^ 
some recent critics are disposed to give up the pur- 
suit and are trying to content themselves with the 
thought that perhaps after all the dramatist was only 
endeavoring to present the mystery of life and to por- 



Hamlet 27 

tray only its deep inscrutability. Professor Dowden 
has said that Hamlet is not an enigma or a puzzle, 
but "a mystery." He says, "Shakspere created it a 
mystery, and therefore it is forever suggestive; for- 
ever suggestive and never wholly explicable." ^ 

In reference to King Lear the same writer expounds 
his conception of Shakespeare's art in these words : "If 
life proposes inexplicable riddles, Shakspere's art must 
propose them also." ^ If life is a mystery, such critics 
would say, we must be content to let Shakespeare 
present it as such. We do not understand our own 
life, these critics imply, and we need not wonder that 
we cannot understand Hamlet's problem. To us as to 
Hamlet, the mystery is complete, and both problem 
and solution are hidden from us, the one as inscrutable 
as the other. 

This kind of criticism, however, returns upon itself. 
We are much worse off if it is life rather than the play 
that is the great mystery. The desire to solve the 
riddle of the play is only that it may throw some light 
upon the problem of existence. But if the purpose of 
the play is only to confirm the mystery of life, then the 
darkness is only deepened, and the confusion is worse 
confounded. This view would forget that Shakespeare 
was a man writing for men, about problems of human 
existence, and not a Creator endowing his work with 
life. All human thought about life, whether in art or 
literature or philosophy is an attempt to understand 
man and his life, not to draw a veil of mystery over it 
and declare it inscrutable. It would be an entirely 
false view of art that would regard it as its business to 

^ Shakspere — His Mind and Art, by Edward Dowden, 13th 
ed., London, 1906, p. 126. 
Ubid., p. 25S. 



•Av. 



28 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

declare its subject-matter mysterious. A drama that 
would attempt to portray only the mystery of life 
would really mean nothing, and would have no reason 
for its existence. A criticism that sees nothing in 
Hamlet but the inscrutability of life thereby admits its 
own failure and its own inscrutability. An interpreta- 
tion that neither explains the play nor the life that the 
play attempts to depict has little right to exist. Life 
may be a mystery, but human thought and art stub- 
bornly refuse to admit it, and their very stubbornness 
constitutes their right to speak to us. Hamlet may 
be to us a mystery, but it is only because we have failed 
to understand it, and not because it is inscrutable. In 
a play so universally lauded we suspect there^ em- 
bodied a view of life that it will be worth our'while to 
understand. And the fact that criticism has not yet 
solved the mystery only serves to invite us to renewed 
efforts to interpret its view of life. 

The Play and the Sources, 

The chief material for the interpretation of a 
Shakespearean play is always the dramatist's own 
words, so far as textual criticism can furnish them. 
In the case of Hamlet, as of the other plays, we doubt- 
less have inherited a fairly correct copy of the acting 
version, and the slight discrepancies and inconsistencies 
within the text itself are likely of quite minor impor- 
tance, and do not affect the general meaning of the 
play.^ With the text before us, then, there seems no 
good reason why we cannot understand the play, and 
get from it the meaning the dramatist intended. If we 
hit upon the right method of interpretation, a careful 
study of the text, the whole text, and nothing but the 
^Cf. Tolman. Views About Hamlet, pp. 33 if. Boston, 1906. 



Hamlet 29 

text, should disclose to us the heart of Hamlet's 
mystery. 

There are many other things, however, that might 
help us in understanding the play. Great assistance 
might come from a knowledge of the production of 
the play under the direct supervision of the drama- 
tist himself, but the records are too meagre to be of any 
real value. Researches into the literature and history 
of Elizabethan England have added much to our 
knowledge of the period, and have enabled us to see the 
play in connection with the general and theatrical 
conditions of the times, but these have not unravelled 
the secret of the play for us. The comparisons of the 
play with other plays of the type, the revenge plays, 
have not brought us much nearer to the heart of 
Hamlet. Shakespeare always seems to write above tho 
level of thought and passion of all other dramatists. 
And the search for the "sources" of Shakespeare's 
plays in the works of earlier dramatists and authors 
has so far yielded nothing of very great value. What 
we may lack through the loss of Kyd's Hamlet it is 
impossible to say, but the meagre results of the com- 
parisons of other plays with their known sources leads 
inevitably to the conviction that Kyd's play could not 
furnish the key to Shakespeare's Hamlet, Shake- 
speare seems to make quite independent use of all the 
material he finds in earlier stories or plays. These, 
however, may give us a point of view for the story and 
serve as a valuable introduction to the dramatist's 
own work. 

Though we cannot unravel the mystery of Hamlet 
by studies outside the play itself, it is nevertheless true 
that sometimes very valuable hints or suggestions can 
be found in the sources from which plays have been 



so Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

made. Shakespeare docs not often change the inner 
character of a story, but rather deepens and broadens 
its meaning, and gives it a larger significance. Some- 
times, as in the case of The Merchant of Venice, he 
brushes aside the more recent renderings of a story, 
and goes back and gives a new interpretation of its 
original meaning. He sees a tinith hidden in an old 
story that has not been fully developed, and he puts 
it through the crucible of his own imagination, and 
brings out its hidden wealth. This, apparently, is what 
he has done in the case of Hamlet, The original story, 
however, is to him only a hint, and the more vital 
parts of the drama are his own contribution. 

Of the probable sources of the story of Hamlet, only 
two are accessible, the original story as told in the 
Historia Danica of Saxo Grammaticus and the Hys- 
iorie of Hambht, by Francis de Belleforest. Kyd's 
play of HamUt has been lost, and the German play. 
Fratricide Punished, very probably has either a com- 
mon source with Hamlet or is a later version of the 
story. We must look for the "sources" of Shake- 
speare's play, then, only to the Historia of Saxo, and 
the Hystorie of Belleforest. It is quite remarkable 
that Saxo, Belleforest, and Shakespeare contain fea- 
tures not to be found in the German play, and these 
will be seen to be of great value in our interpretation. 

Even in Saxo the reveng*^ of the murder of his father 
is much more than an individual and personal matter 
with Hamlet. The killing of the king not only accom- 
plishes an act of individual justice, but is at the same 
time a deliverance of the country from the rule of a 
king who is both a murderer and a corrupting influence 
in the life and politics of Denmark. Claudius, or 
Fengo as he is called in Saxo, is an evil influence in the 



HaTrdet 31 

country, and his rule is in very great contrast with that 
of the elder Hamlet who preceded and with that of the 
younger Hamlet who follows him, for in Saxo the prince 
lives to become the next king. As Latham says, "The 
Hamlet of the fourth book is no weakling in any sense 
of the word, neither is he either fool or idiot, natural or 
pretending. On the contrary, he is a warrior of the 
true Norse type, and a politician and strategist of un- 
rivalled cunning." -^ He seems, indeed, to be the type 
of the National Hero, and was in character and con- 
duct a sort of Danish Prince Arthur. 

In Belleforest, however, this conception is still more 
clearly in the mind of the writer. Here Hamlet defi- 
nitely poses as the deliverer of the people in his revenge 
upon the king. After he has killed the king he ad- 
dresses the people, speaking of himself as "the author 
of your deliverance," and telling them "they shouki 
be thankfuU for such and so great a benefit as the de- 
struction of a tyrant, and the overthrow of the place 
that was the storehouse of his villainies, and the true 
receptacle of all the theeves and traytors in this king- 
dome." He proceeds to tell them that in killing the king 
he had two motives ; first, "vengeance for the violence 
done unto my lord and father," and, secondly, "for the 
subjection and servitude that I perceived in this coun- 
try." He then explains to them that he did the deed 
himself out of a desire to spare the people. "But it 
liked me best to do it myself alone, thinking it a good 
thing to punish the wicked without hazarding the lives 
of my friends and loyall subjects, not desiring to bur- 
then other mens shoulders with this weight; for that I 
made account to effect it well inough without exposing 

* Two Dissertations on the Hamlet of Sa^o Orammaticus and 
of Shakespeare, by R. G. Latham, p. 49, London, 1875. 



S2 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

any man into danger, and by publishing the same should 
clean have overthrowne the device, which at this present 
I have so happily brought to passe." ^ Then, after 
further reviewing the career and character of his 
murderous uncle, he says, "It is I that have taken away 
the infamy of my contry, and extinguished the fire 
that imbraced your fortunes. ... I was grieved at 
the injurie committed both to my father and my native 
country. ... I am the author of your preserva- 
tion." 2 

It appears, then, that in these two earliest known 
forms of the old Danish legend, Hamlet is portrayed 
as a national hero, and the deliverer of his country from 
the corruption and servitude of the wicked king, his 
uncle, and that he accomplished this end by his own 
valor and without hazarding the lives of the people of 
Denmark. No wonder, then, as the story proceeds to 
tell, he "wan the affections of the nobility, that some 
wept for pity, other for joy, to see the wisdome and 
gallant spirit of Hamlet." ^ These noble deeds make 
Hamlet a real national hero, and it is this spirit Shake- 
speare has apparently incorporated into his play, and 
that up to this time has not been appreciated by critics 
and readers. 

The Play and the Prince, 

With this conception of the story, it becomes im- 
portant to study very closely the situation as de- 
veloped in the early scenes of Hamlet.^ The dramatic 
exposition will prove to give us the right point of view 

* The Hystorie of Hamblet, English version of 1608, reprinted 
in Furness's Variorum Hamlet, II., p. 111. 

'Op. cit,, II., pp. 112-3. 
•Op. cit., II., p. 113. 

* Cf. Note A, pp. 291-3, infra. 



Hamlet 33 

for a proper understanding of the play. A good deal 
of the trouble comes from the fact that the play has 
not been approached in the right manner. With few 
exceptions the existing interpretations of the play 
attempt to understand the drama by first trying to 
understand the character. The critics seem to forget 
that the play is not the history of a certain Prince of 
Denmark, but a work of imagination, based as we see 
upon legends, but constructed or reconstructed accord- 
ing to the dramatist's views of human life. Hamlet, 
like all other dramas, is "an arranged spectacle" in 
which there are many persons, but one chief person. 
The Prince, Hamlet, cannot be said to be the play, 
though he is the one person upon whom the action of 
the play turns. We should try, then, first, to under- 
stand the drama; and then we may hope to understand 
the man Hamlet. The Prince is not the play, though 
he is the chief character of the play. 

If Shakespeare in this play has adhered to his usual 
practice in striking the key-note in the first scene,^ 
then we must believe that the initial situation of the 
play has developed before the Prince makes his ap- 
pearance. Hamlet comes upon the stage for the first 
time in the second scene, after many of the dramatic 
elements have already been introduced into the situa- 
tion. The condition of affairs in Denmark, the rela- 
tion of Denmark to Norway, and the ambitions of 
young Prince Fortinbras, are all carefully outlined by 
the dramatist before Hamlet comes upon the stage. 
Furthermore, the ghost appears to others on three 
several nights before it appears to him, and he receives 
his commission only in the fourth scene. The dramatic 
* Cf, "Shakespeare's Opening Scenes as wStriking the Key-note of 
Dramatic Action and Motive," by C. W. Hodell, in Poet Lore, 
Vol. VI., 1894, pp. 169, 337, and 452. 



34 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

situation is therefore developed in large part before he 
appears, and his interview with the ghost seems only 
the completing factor. It would seem, then, that Ham- 
let is not the play in himself, but only a factor in the 
solution of the problem, though a factor so large that 
he soon dominates everything and becomes the dra- 
matic hero. 



Hamlet's Silence. 

A great many students of the play have expressed 
surprise that nowhere does Hamlet give distinct utter- 
ance to his conception of the nature of the task 
assigned him by the ghost. He nowhere explains clear- 
ly his own motives, not even in his private talks with his 
friend, Horatio, nor yet in his soliloquies. This may be 
due in part to the fact that Hamlet is not the play. 
As we have seen, the problem of the play cannot l>3 
solved by reference only to the prince. The situation 
of the play is developed before he comes on the stage, 
and as we shall see later the full solution is reached 
only after his death. Moreover, the character of his 
troubles and his task of revenge are of such a personal 
nature that he cannot reveal them even to Horatio. 
The fact that his troubles are only suspicions, that 
cannot be verified at present, forbids a declaration even 
to his bosom friend. 

Hamlet very properly has the habit of silence. There 
is about him, as has been said "an habitual secrecy" 
that resists all our prying inquisitiveness. He scarcely 
deigns even to mention his suspicions to himself, and 
his soliloquies do not disclose fully his inner thoughts. 



Hamlet 35 

In his first soliloquy, which occurs in his first appear- 
ance on the stage, Hamlet denounces his mother's 
"o'erhasty marriage," as if this were all that troubled 
him. His great grief almost breaks his heart, yet he 
concludes by reminding himself that he must not speak 
out, saying, 

"But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue T 

(I. ii. 159.) 

In all his associations with his friends, moreover, 
he enjoins them to the strictest secrecy regarding any 
revelations made to them. When Horatio and the 
others tell Hamlet of the appearance of the ghost, he 
draws from them all the information he can, and then 
pledges them to the utmost secrecy, saying, "Give it 
an understanding, but no tongue." (I. ii. 249.) After 
he has himself seen the ghost they ask him, "What 
news, my lord?" But he denies them, saying, "No ; you 
will reveal it." He then seems to think of telling 
them, first pledging them to secrecy, and begins by 
saying, "There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Den- 
mark," and then changing his mind for fear they will 
disclose it, he adds indifferently, "But he's an arrant 
knave." A few moments later, after assuring them, 
"It is an honest ghost," he makes them swear solemnly 
upon the cross of his sword, "Never make known what 
you have seen to-night." ^ 

Hamlet finds it impossible even to make a confidant of 
Horatio, for not only is his trouble only a suspicion, but 
it is of the most intimate personal kind, involving as it 
does the honor of his mother. Fortunately, the friend- 
ship between the two is so genuine and strong that Ho- 
ratio remains his trusty friend without a knowledge of 

* I. V. 117-8, 123-4, 136, 143. 



36 Ilamh'L nu hi ml Prince 

all that is in Hamlet's mind and heart. It is clear, how- 
ever, that Horatio knows much more tlum the others, 
and more than Hamlet is reported as telling him. At 
the end of the pla}^, when he is dying, Hamlet solemnly 
charges Horatio after his death to 

"report me and my cause aright 
To the unsatisfied." (V. ii. 326-7.) 

Then after giving his voice for the election of Fortin- 
bras as the next king of Denmark, he dies with these 
words on his lips, "the rest is silence." (V. ii. 345.)^ 
No words of Hamlet, then, fully disclose his thoughts 
and his motives, nor is it necessary that they should. 
All his words are naturally spoken with the closest 
reference to the entire situation and the conditions 
about him. These conditions must, therefore, interpret 
for us his words and his motives, and if properly under- 
stood will make his words clear. Shakespeare does not 
find it necessar}^ to have Hamlet openly and explicitly 
declare his thoughts. But he does take particular 
pains to explain very fully the dramatic situation and 
all the surroundings of Hamlet, and these give the 
requisite meaning to his words. It is the supreme art 
of Shakespeare to delineate his characters in the most 
intimate relation to the situation and movement of his 
dramas, and never in isolation or apart from the action 
of his plays. In the case of HamUt, there are fewer 
explicit words than usual in his plays, and probably for 
the reason that he has more carefully elaborated the 
situation that should give the words and actions the 
meaning required. It is only in these dramatic sur- 
roundings that we can find the clue to the character 
and motive of Hamlet, and these the critics have not 
been able to understand. 
* Cf. Quotation from Edward Gans, in Furness, Vol. II., p. 292. 



Hamlet 37 

The ''External Relations of the Persons.^' 

Largely from the influence and example of Goethe, 
nearly all criticism of Hamlet has overlooked and 
ignored the dramatist's careful exposition of the situa- 
tion as given in the first scene of the play. Goethe 
declared the initial situation of the play to be a useless 
and inartistic encumbrance to the story, and led the 
way in disregarding it in the interpretation. This first 
scene, however, contains the dramatist's own exposition 
of his play, and outlines for us the environment in which 
Hamlet is to perform his part. The fallacy has un- 
fortunately been passing current among scholars that 
Shakespeare was verj^^ careless in reconstructing the old 
plays upon which he worked, and they have therefore 
felt no necessity of paying the strictest attention to 
all the elements that he works into his dramatic expo- 
sitions. But it is now high time to cease ignoring 
whatever he has written, especially what he has himself 
added to the material that came to his hand. The 
criticism that attempts to find all of Shakespeare's 
thought without studying carefully all his words has 
utterly failed, as was inevitable, and should now be 
abandoned. 

As a consequence of this misconception, no adequate 
explanation has ever been offered of many elements 
that the dramatist has with seemingly great care out- 
lined in the first scene of the play. The relations of 
the two kingdoms of Denmark and Norway, which the 
play explains very fully, have never been seen to have 
any significance for the play as a whole. The part of 
young Fortinbras has in the same manner never been 
made clear, and he is usually treated as a very unim- 
y)ortant incident. This is surely a great mistake, for 
almost the entire first scene is given over to these 



88 Hamhf, an Ideal Prince 

topics, and they constantly recur to the very end of 

the play, where finally the crown of Denmark passes 
to Prince Fortinbras. This fiery young warrior seems 
always to be hovering over Denmark, like an eagle over 
its intended prey. He appears directly in the fourth 
and fifth acts, and is a factor in every act but the third, 
in which the ghost comes to whet Hamlet's ^'almost 
blunted purpose.'' The dramatist has done everything 
possible to indicate that great significance attaches to 
the relations of the two kingdoms, and of the two 
princes. 

Goethe spoke of these circumstances surrounding 
Hamlet as the ^'external relations of the persons,'' and 
declared that Shakespeare had managed them very 
badly, and to no dramatic purpose. He made bold to 
say that "All these circumstances and events would 
be very fit for expanding and lengthening a novel; but 
here they injure exceedingly the unity of the piece, 
particularly as the hero has no plan, and are, in conse- 
quence, entirely out of place." He proposes concern- 
ing "these external, single, dissipated, and dissipating 
motives, to cast them all at once away, and substitute 
a solitary one instead of them." He then elaborates 
his plan, which is, briefly, to eliminate all reference to 
Wittenberg and the university and to connect Horatio 
directly with Norway by making him the son of the 
viceroy, and "When Hamlet tells Horatio of his uncle's 
crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his 
company, to secure the affections of the army, and 
return in warlike force." ^ Goethe scarcely even takes 
the trouble to consider all the references to the rela- 
tions of Denmark and Norway, but brushes them aside 
as entirely out of place. 

* Wilhehn Meuter. Book V. chapt. IV. Carlyle's translation. 



Hamlet 39 

The changes which Goethe proposed to make might 
conceivably produce an excellent play, for Goethe's 
genius may have been equal to the task. But the re- 
sulting drama would no longer be Shakespeare's, and it 
would have no more relation to his play than his 
Hamlet has to Kyd's. It might still be called Hamlet, 
but the motive and the character of the prince would 
be changed and would have no relation to the one we 
know. The futility of these suggestions upon the part 
of Goethe serves only to make clear the difficulties 
critics have experienced in interpreting these "external 
relations of the persons." It is, therefore, of the high- 
est importance to scrutinize these elements of the play 
with the utmost care, to see if after all they do not 
constitute a very significant part of the dramatic 
situation. If they do, then we may expect them to 
contain the true motive of the play and off*er the key 
to the solution of its mystery. 

It should be observed at the outset that these 
troublesome "external relations" are Shakespeare's own 
contribution to the story, for there is no reference to 
young Fortinbras in any of the extant possible sources 
of the drama, and no such exposition of the existing 
relations of the two kingdoms. The Hystorie of 
Hamblet alone refers to Norway, but only to tell how 
Hamlet's father had overcome the king of Norway 
before the opening of the story. No hint is given of 
the present strained relations of the two kingdoms. If 
Shakespeare had found such relations in the story he 
adopted, it is conceivable that he might have left them 
standing in little or no connection with the motive of 
the play, as he may have done with certain other minor 
features of the story. But when he added them liimself, 
they must certainly be considered as having a very vital 



40 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

relation to the meaning of the play. The reference to 
Norway in the earlier story seems to have furnished 
him with a hint, and he wove carefully into his play the 
relations of the two kingdoms. 

These new elements of the story Shakespeare utilized 
from the first, for they appear in the First Quarto 
substantially as in the First Folio. These deliberate 
additions to the story furnished an encompassing situa- 
tion to the play, and supplied the elements that lifted 
Hamlet's motive from the low level of personal revenge 
to the high plane of national purpose. This enables 
Shakespeare to endow his hero with a much loftier and 
nobler passion, and to connect the action of the play 
with a more truly dramatic situation. The dramatist 
had previously done a similar thing in Romeo and 
Juliet, where he made love serve the purpose of recon- 
ciling two rival houses, and in The Merchant of Venice, 
where he made the love of Portia and Bassanio the 
means of frustrating the cruel revenge of Shylock. 
Shakespeare was never satisfied with being a mere 
psychologist of human passion, but contented himself 
only when he could portray also its moral and spiritual 
meaning. 

The Dramatic Situation, 

The greetings in the opening lines of the first act 
seem to indicate an unusual watchfulness and nervous- 
ness on the part of the guards, due, as later conversa- 
tion discloses, to the previous appearances of tJie 
ghost, and to the warlike state of the kingdom. Den- 
mark, it seems, is threatened with the revolt of Norway, 
which had become a tributary kingdom under the late 
king Hamlet. This old king was a great patriot, it 
would appear, and now his ghost shows itself among 



Hamlet 41 

the guards of the palace, as if to inspire or to take 
part in the defence of the kingdom. With the change 
of guards, the conversation turned to "this thing,'^ 
"this dreaded sight," "this apparition," which they 
"two nights have seen;" and which as they spoke 
appeared for the third time, in "warlike form" as 
before. 

Horatio, the wise and faithful friend of Hamlet, re- 
gards this as a matter of grave national import, and 
fears that it "bodes some strange eruption to our 
state." As his next speech indicates, Horatio is well 
acquainted with the past history and with the present 
affairs of the kingdom. Through him the dramatist 
lays before us the general situation of the play.^ 

Marcellus then asks for an explanation of the warlike 
preparations he sees going on all around. This inquiry 
reveals the fact that there are four distinct forms of 
military and naval activity on the part of the Danes, 
all of which are quite unusual. He speaks first of the 
extraordinary watchfulness of the guard, which he 
calls, "this same strict and most observant watch." 
This would seem to indicate that they expect war, 
and fear they may be suddenly attacked. Then he 
discloses the fact that workmen are kept busy by night 
as well as by day in rushing preparations : "So nightly 
toils the subject of the land." Added to this is the 
active manufacture of cannon and purchase of imple- 
ments of war from foreign marts, indicating their fear 
of a sudden attack that may possibly find them unpre- 
pared. And finally, he speaks of the feverish haste 
in building ships, and the fact that they are impressing 
men into the work, and keeping them busy even on 
Sundays. When this fact is considered in connection 

1 0/. Note B, pp. 293-5, infra. 



42 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

with the strict watch, it seems plain that they fear a 
sudden attack from the sea. Marcellus notices that 
all these preparations are being pushed witli ''sweaty 
haste" and wants to know the reason, saving, "Who is 
it that can inform me?" (I. i. 70-79.) 

In reply to the inquiry of Marcellus, Horatio under- 
takes to explain, and says that these preparations are 
intended as a defence against the threatened attack 
of young Fortinbras of Norway. To make the matter 
clear, he goes on to explain how the trouble arose 
between the two countries. It seems that the elder 
Hamlet was a brave but peaceable man, and that he 
w^as "prick'd on by a most emulate pride, dared to 
the combat," by the elder Fortinbras. The "valiant 
Hamlet" did not pick the quarrel; but when he was 
attacked would not permit another to take advantage 
of him, and boldly stood up for liis own. In the 
ensuing war Fortinbras was slain, and part of his 
dominion passed under the sovereignty of Denmark. 

Now the young Prince of Norway has come into 
power, and wants to recover "those foresaid lands," 
and for this purpose is gathering an army and making 
other warlike preparations. Denmark is therefore 
compelled to make ready to resist the attack, and the 
coming in armor of the ghost of the late king is taken 
at once as having something to do with "his country's 
fate." The king appears to be ready once more, even 
in spirit, to combat "the ambitious Norway," and to 
defend his country. Horatio does not hesitate to 
connect the coming of the ghostly apparition with 
this apparent crisis in the affairs of Denmark, and 
likens it to the portents in Rome before the fall of 
"the mightiest Julius," and regards this as evidence of 
the interest of heaven in the forthcoming struggle. 



Hamlet 43 

This interpretation of the situation seems to satisfy 
Marcellus, and may be regarded as the true expla- 
nation. It is borne out by Bernardo, too, who connects 
the coming of the ghost of the former king with the 
impending war. 

Hamlet and the Ghost. 

The ghost in Hamlet no doubt performs an im- 
portant dramatic function. Whatever may have 
been Shakespeare's belief about ghosts, he utilizes the 
popular conception to render objective what is in the 
minds of his characters. The ghosts or witches that 
appeared to Macbeth spoke out only what was in his 
mind, and revealed his inner thoughts to the audience 
better than any words of his could do. In the same 
way, the ghost in Hamlet discloses to us the suspicions 
already in the minds of Hamlet and his friends. When 
Hamlet sees the ghost and hears its revelations, he 
voices this thought by saying, "Oh my prophetic soul!" 
(I. V. 40.) And the fact that it first appears to the 
friends of Hamlet suggests that they shared his sus- 
picions and perhaps even anticipated them, though 
no word had been spoken. The inquiry of Marcellus 
about the cause of the warlike activity and his later 
remark about the rotten condition of Denmark seem 
to imply a suspicion that he is endeavoring to verify 
or to disprove. 

The scepticism that all at first show concerning the 
ghost seems to indicate their unwillingness to put faith 
in their suspicions. They do not willingly think evil of 
the king, and they all want some undoubted proof, 
not only of the fact of the ghost's appearance, but of 
the truth of his words. Horatio hesitates to take 
the word of Bernardo and Francisco, and is convinced 



44 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

only by the actual sight of the ghost. Hamlet, appar- 
ently the least suspicious of all, for he is the last to 
see the ghost, seems reluctant to believe that Horatio 
and the others have seen it. To convince him, 
Horatio assures him with an oath of the truth of his 
report, saying, 

"As I do live, mv honor'd lord, 'tis true." 

(I. ii. ^21.) 

His doubts are not finally removed until the fourth 
scene when he sees the ghost for himself. At last, the 
evidence overcomes his moral reluctance to believe such 
fcul suspicions, and Hamlet is convinced of the guilt of 
the king. 

The Ghost in Armor, 

So much is said in the play about the ghost's war- 
like form that great significance must be attached to 
that fact. On its appearance on the stage Horatio 
speaks of it as having on, 

"that fair and warlike form 
In which the majesty of buried Denmark 
Did sometimes march." 

(I. i. 4T-49.) 

And when Marcellus asks, 

"Is it not like the king?" 

Horatio replies : 

"As thou art to thyself; 
Such was the very armor he had on 
When he the ambitious Xorwav combated." 

(I. i. 58-61.) 

When Marcellus further observes its '^martial stalk," 
Horatio suggests that, 

"This bodes some strange eruption to our state." 

(I. i. 69.) 



• 



Hamlet 45 

Then after Horatio has explained io Marcellus and the 

others the reason for the warlike preparations and the 

impending danger from Norway, Bernardo remarks : 

"Well may it sort, that this portentous figure 
Comes armed through our watch, so like the king 
That was and is the question of these wars." 

(I. i. 109-111.) 

It is quite clear, then, that they regard the king's 

appearance in arms as a portent of grave danger to 

the state from the ambitions of young Fortinbras of 

Norway. 

When they inform Hamlet of the apparition, one 

of the points they specially mention is that he was 

"arm'd." Horatio describes the ghost as, 

"A figure like your father, 
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe." 
(I. ii. 199-300.) 

Hamlet seems not more impressed with the appearance 
of the ghost than with the fact that he was ''arm'd." 
After being apparently convinced that the ghost had 
actually appeared, in great excitement he questions 
his friends until all three assert that the ghost was 
"arm'd." Then he cross-questions them, and, when 
convinced of the truth of their statement, he begs 
them to keep the matter secret, and 

"Give it an understanding, but no tongue." 

(I. ii. 249.) 

When alone, he observes, 

"My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; 
I doubt some foul play." 

(I. ii. ^6^i-^,) 

It is the general opinion, then, that great significance 
is to be attached to the fact that the king appeared 
in armor. When we take this in connection with the 



46 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

fact that he appeared to the guards, as they said, 
''upon the platform where we watch'd," it is impos- 
sible not to infer that the king came upon a patriotic 
mission, and that his appearance was intended to have 
a relation to the defence of Denmark. 

All that Hamlet's friends had told him was soon 
confirmed by the appearance of the ghost to him in the 
same guise. As if to confirm the words of his friends, 
he notices that the "dead corse" of his father is again 
clad "in complete steel." (I. iv. 52.) The appari- 
tion will say nothing, however, in the presence of all, 
though he makes it clear by beckoning Hamlet that he 
has something for his ear alone. As the ghost and 
Hamlet withdraw for their private interview, Marcellus 
feels that it is upon the business of the state that the 
ghost appears, and remarks : 

"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." (I. iv. 90.) 

To this Horatio replies, "Heaven will direct it." The 
inference they all appear to draw is that the visit of 
the late king's spirit is in connection with the impend- 
ing danger to the state of Denmark. This seems to 
imply that the task that is falling to Hamlet is not 
merely a personal matter between him and his father, 
but a momentous undertaking of great national import. 

The Character of the Elder Hamlet. 

Though we see nothing of the elder Hamlet on the 
stage, except his ghost, it is really he who is the main- 
spring of all the action of the play. It was the desire 
to gain his crown that had impelled Claudius to the 
murder, and it is the filial duty of Hamlet to his father 
that urges him to his revenge upon the king. This 
conflict, then, of the murderer and the avenger of the 



Hamlet 47 

elder Hamlet constitutes the main plot of the play, and 
from this grows the entire narrative. 

There are many evidences in the play that the elder 
Hamlet was a very different man from his brother 
Claudius. Not only was one the innocent victim and 
the other the cold-blooded fratricide, but the rule of 
the two kings was as different as possible. Under the 
elder Hamlet the kingdom of Denmark had been hon- 
orable at home and respected abroad. It seems to 
have been a kingdom which both citizen and alien rec- 
ognized as strong and good. But under Claudius the 
good name of Denmark had been lost, and the whole- 
some fear of her just power had passed away. Cor- 
ruption and debauchery now stalk through the land, 
and foreign powers think it weak and debased. On 
the confession of Claudius himself it appears that 
young Fortinbras thinks its weakness affords him a 
good opportunity to make war upon Denmark, and 
a fitting time to seize the lands that his father had 
lost to the elder Hamlet. It is for this reason that he 
is now threatening Denmark, and if we can judge from 
the condition of the land, he might reasonably look 
for a complete triumph. 

The change that has come over the country is but 
an index of and the effect of the difference of the 
two kings. The younger Hamlet has made most strik- 
ing contrasts between his father and his uncle. In 
the interview with his mother, when he tries to dis- 
suade her from continuing her guilty relations with 
the king, he calls her attention to the portraits of 
the two, saying: 

"Look here, upon this picture, and on this. 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See what a grace was seated on this brow; 



48 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

A combination and a form indeed, 

Where every god did seem to set his seal 

To give the world assurance of a man; 

This was your husband. Look you now, what follows; 

Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear 

Blasting his wholesome brother." 

(III. iv. 53-65.) 

The character of the elder Hamlet is further strik- 
ingly depicted in Horatio's explanation of the war 
preparations to Marcellus and the others. It is evi- 
dent from this speech that he was a most noble king, 
who ruled solely in the interests of his kingdom, and 
not in his personal interests. He had no ambitions, 
and in no way molested any of his neighbors, but kept 
his land in prosperity and peace. He was not, how- 
ever, a weak but a very valiant king, "For so this side 
of our known world esteem'd him" (I. i. 85), as Horatio 
goes on to say. He made no wars, but did not hesi- 
tate to go to war to defend his own. He would not 
attempt to plunder any other kingdom, nor would he 
permit any other to plunder him. He was a peace- 
able king, but not a peace-at-any-price king. 

Therefore, when Fortinbras of Norway challenged 
him to war, he valiantly took up the challenge, and 
if we are to judge by the brevity of Shakespeare's ac- 
count of the war, he very speedily overcame and slew 
Fortinbras. By his victory the lands that were in dis- 
pute fell to Denmark, and so long as he lived they 
remained his without question. Only when he was dead 
did Norway once more think itself able to challenge 
Denmark and dare it to the combat. The weakness of 
Claudius, the young prince Fortinbras thought, af- 
forded him his opportunity. 

It is this sort of strength and virtue that makes the 
elder Hamlet a real national hero. He was not the 



Hamlet 49 

type of the aggressive and conquering hero, who made 
war for the sake of war and conquest. With that kind 
of hero Shakespeare has no sympathy. He was, how- 
ever, the dramatist's ideal king, who loved peace, and 
would never make war, but who would not hesitate to 
go to war in defence of his right and of his nation. He 
would not wage an aggressive war, but was valiant 
enough to defend his kingdom when attacked. This 
is the only kind of hero Shakespeare recognizes, and 
for this kind he had the most profound admiration. 
Few of the critics have appreciated this character 
of the elder Hamlet, or have seen in the account any 
significance for the play. Werder alone seems to get 
a glimpse of it when he speaks of him as the "hero 
king, Hamlet's father." ^ 

In considering the younger Hamlet it is worth while 
to observe that previous to Shakespeare's version of 
the story, in both Saxo and Belleforest, the names of 
father and son were different. The name of the father 
in both earlier versions was Horvendil, and only the 
son was Hamlet. But Shakespeare has given the name 
also to the father, thus making the son the namesake 
of the father. This fact, taken together with the son's 
wonderful devotion to the father, make it evident that 
Shakespeare desired to have them conceived as of simi- 
lar character. Certain it is that he has left the im- 
pression that the son is but a second Hamlet, of the 
same character, and of the same self-sacrificing yet 
heroic type. ^As the father was an ideal king, so is 
the son an ideal' prince, and Fortinbras in the last 
speech of the play says that if Hamlet had been put 
on the throne, there is no doubt he would "have prov'd 
most royally." 
^ The Heart of Hamlet's Mystery, p. 68. 



60 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 



III 

Claudius and the Condition of Denmark. 

The second scene of the play makes it clear that it 
is the weak and corrupt condition of Denmark under 
Claudius that affords occasion for the warlike activi- 
ties of Fortinbras. From the beginning of the play 
Hamlet has had suspicions, which are gradually con- 
firmed as the plot develops, that Claudius has ex- 
erted a very evil influence upon the country. The 
later development shows that Hamlet has rightly di- 
vined the true inwardness of the situation. Claudius 
himself is fully cognizant of the state of aff'airs, and 
from his lips we get the true explanation. He dis- 
closes the fact that young Fortinbras has no such 
wholesome fear and respect for him as he had for 
the late king, and makes the damaging admission that : 

"young Fortinbras, 
Holding a weak supposal of our worth, . . . 
. . . hath not fail'd to pester us with message, 
Importing the surrender of those lands 
Lost by his father." 

(I. ii. 17-24.) 

Claudius further remarks that he has written to 
Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, imploring him to 
restrain the fiery temper of his nephew, and now dis- 
patches two courtiers to the same end. Only by weakly 
supplicating Norway is Claudius able to keep peace 
with his neighbor and prevent an invasion. This weak- 
ness is in great contrast to the days of the elder Ham- 
let, when the Danish royal power was feared and re- 
spected, both at home and abroad. 

There is no doubt that Claudius was a thoroughly 
bad man. If like Hamlet we cannot prove it at th^ 



Hamlet 51 

opening of the play, we need only wait for the later 
developments and for his villainous attempts on Ham- 
let's life. Claudius is indeed as much a villain as Mac- 
beth, and with little or nothing of Macbeth's great 
ability. The ghost speaks of him as one "whose natu* 
ral gifts were poor to those of mine!" (I. v. 51-52.) 
And Hamlet, comparing him to his father in his later 
interview with his mother, calls him : 

"A murderer and a villain; 
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe 
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings." 

(III. iv. 96-98.) 

Yet Claudius, though a villain, was capable of quick 
and effective action. He was clever enough to leave 
no traces of his crime when he killed his brother, and 
he showed dispatch and skill in quickly bringing about 
the election of himself as the next king before Ham- 
let could return from the university. This same power 
of speedy action is his greatest strength, and enables 
him to make Hamlet's task at once exceedingly diffi- 
cult and dangerous. 

Gradually there is disclosed in the play considerable 
evidence of a general corruption and weakening of the 
state under the example and influence of Claudius. 
Hamlet is conscious of it on his return from the uni- 
versity, and the king readily admits his dissipations. 
No doubt Hamlet's sad words about the condition of 
the world in his first soliloquy are spoken more with 
reference to Denmark: 

"Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden 
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature 
Possess it merely." 

(I. ii. 135-7.) 



52 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

The king had led the way in dissipation and de- 
bauchery, and in his first interview with Hamlet prom- 
ises elaborate festivities (I. ii. 121-9). In the same 
scene Hamlet refers to these habits, and satirically tells 
his friend Horatio : "We'll teach you to drink deep ere 
you depart" (I. ii. 175). In his next conversation 
with Horatio, Hamlet again speaks of the king's drink- 
ing habits, and says : 

"The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse. 
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels ; 
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down. 
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 
The triumph of his pledge." 

(I. iv. 8-12.) 

When Horatio asks if this is a Danish custom, Hamlet 
replies that "it is a custom More honor'd in the breach 
than the observance." At a later time when Hamlet 
tries to show to his mother the baseness of his uncle 
he speaks of him as "the bloat king" (III. iv. 182). 

To the virtuous mind of Hamlet one of the worst 
features of this debauchery is that it has destroyed 
their reputation among nations, and the fair name of 
Denmark has suffered irreparable loss : 

"This heavy-headed revel east and west 
Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations; 
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
Soil our addition." 

(I. iv. 17-20.) 

Then he moralizes upon the baneful influence of "some 
vicious mole of nature" that corrupts the whole being, 
until such men 

"Shall in the general censure take corruption 
From that particular fault." 

(I. iv. 35-6.) 



Hamlet 53 

The inevitable implication of course is that the whole 

state of Denmark has been corrupted by the king's bad 

habits and vicious nature, until 

"the dram of eale, 
Doth all the noble substance of a doubt 
To his own scandal." 

(I. iv. 36-8.) 

This condition of corruption impresses both Hamlet 
and his friends almost from the outset. When the 
ghost has vanished after his appearance to Hamlet 
and others, Marcellus at once recognizes its relation 
to the country, and says, "Something is rotten in the 
state of Denmark" (I. iv. 90). It is Hamlet, however, 
with his deep moral nature, who most fully recognizes 
the king's corrupting influence upon Denmark. After 
the ghost has revealed to him the matter and the man- 
ner of his murder, Hamlet at once sees that the crime 
is not a mere matter between him and Claudius, but 
that it has engendered a bad condition of affairs in 
the state and that it is imperative upon him to set 
himself to the task of reparation : 

"The time is out of joint; — O cursed spite, 
That ever I was born to set it right! — ^*' 

(I. V. 189-190.) 

These thoughts are no doubt in Hamlet's mind when 
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern tell him the only news 
is "that the world's grown honest." To this he quickly 
replies that "your news is not true," and goes on to 
sa}^ that "Denmark's a prison," and "one o' the worst," 
and at any rate "to me it is a prison" (H. ii. 233-246). 
A little later in his great soliloquy, referring to his 
grievous troubles and sufferings, he calls them "The 
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" (III. i. 58). 
No doubt he is thinking not only of the foul murder 



64 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

of his father, but of the times that are out of joint 
and that he must try to set right. 

There has been a feeling from the first that the 
coming of the ghost has had to do with affairs of state. 
Horatio, who has just come from Wittenberg when 
Marcellus and others report to him of seeing the ghost, 
volunteers the idea that "This bodes some strange 
eruption to our state" (I. i. 69). Horatio knows noth- 
ing of the murder and yet he thinks the ghost has 
to do with affairs of state. When he sees the ghost, 
he thinks of three possible reasons for his appearance. 
He may want something done; or may want to tell 
where he has hoarded some treasure; or he may be 
privy to his country's fate. Taken in connection with 
what he has just said of the impending danger from 
young Fortinbras, it seems to indicate a feeling that 
all is not well with Denmark, Hamlet, however, is 
the only one who fully comprehends the actual truth. 

Hamlet and His Father. 

Hamlet's scepticism about the ghost vanishes only 
when he sees it for himself. At first sight he wonders 
for a moment whether or not it is some evil spirit sent 
to do harm. But these doubts soon vanish as he sees 
the semblance of his father before him. When he first 
heard of its appearance from his friends, he had re- 
solved to speak to it at any hazard if it looked like 
his father: 

"If it assume my noble father's person, 
rU speak to it, though hell itself should gape 
And bid me hold my peace." 

(I. ii. 243-5.) 

This pictures Hamlet as a most dutiful and devoted 
son, with a perfect faith in his father, and a willing- 



Hamlet 65 

ness to undertake anything in his behalf. 

As soon, therefore, as he has dispelled his first fears 
at the sight of the ghost, he addresses himself to him, 
calling him, "Hamlet, King, father," and begs him to 
tell him why he leaves his tomb and revisits "the 
glimpses of the moon" (I. iv. 53). He implores him, 
"Say, why is this.^ wherefore? what should we do?" 
(57). He apparently expects some task to be assigned 
him, and is ready to listen and obey. He says he does 
not set his life at a pin's fee, and intimates his re- 
solve at any cost to follow it. He feels that when 
the ghost beckons him it is fate crying out, and he 
feels strong for any task: 

"My fate cries out. 
And makes each petty artery in this body 
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve." 

When his friends try to restrain him from following 
the ghost, he breaks loose and says : 

"Unhand me, gentlemen; 
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me; 
I say, away! — Go on; I'll follow thee." 

(I. iv. 81-6.) 

In the private interview with the ghost that follows, 
Hamlet hears the story of his father's "foul and most 
unnatural murder," confirming all his worst suspi- 
cions. His devotion to his father is shown in his eager 
attention to the sordid story of his uncle's villainy and 
his mother's weakness, and in the declaration of his 
willingness to give himself up to the duty of revenge. 
He is impatient of the slow rehearsal of the murder, 
and cries out: 

"Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift 
As meditation or the thoughts of love. 
May sweep to my revenge." 

(I. V. 29-31.) 



56 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

When he has heard the whole story, he promises the 
ghost that he will give up ever}- other ambition to ac- 
complish this filial duty, and bursts out into a frantic 
passion of devotion and vengeance, saying: 

"from the table of my memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, . . . 
And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'd with baser matter; yes, by heaven!" 

(I. v/ 98-104.) 

Hamlet's first thought is that it is his mother who is 
primarily responsible for the crime, and he cries out, 
"O most pernicious woman !" But this thought his 
father's ghost does not encourage, and has already told 
him not to contrive against his mother. 

The injunction of the ghost to revenge his murder 
was subject to two restraints. The ghost first en- 
joined him, "Taint not thy mind." This Hamlet ap- 
parently understood as meaning that in revenging his 
father's murder he was to regard his task as moral, 
and was to keep his own moral nature uncontaminated. 
His mission was to restore moral order in Denmark, 
and not to make matters worse by committing crimes 
himself. Then the ghost said further, "Nor let thy 
soul contrive against thy mother aught." Hamlet 
had been too ready to charge the crime to his mother's 
influence, and now the ghost admonishes him that he 
is to strike Claudius down without striking his mother. 
He is charged to work vengeance on the king without 
harming the queen. He is to be an avenger of his fa- 
ther, and not a destroyer of his mother. This re- 
straint not to harm his mother greatly complicated 
his task, for the king and queen were so bound to- 
gether that it was all but impossible to separate their 
fates. 



Hamlet 57 

These restraints laid upon Hamlet in the accom- 
plishment of his great task were in fact but the re- 
straints which his own moral nature and his great 
reverence for his father's character would impose upon 
him. His great devotion to his father, as Werder sug- 
gests, was probably due in part to the fact that he 
turned to him when he found his mother so ignoble. 
This love for his father and his own moral convic- 
tions now found expression in the words of the ghost. 
He was determined then to preserve his own honor 
and to spare his mother, leaving her to heaven and 
to her own conscience. His task, therefore, was ex- 
tremely difficult in itself, and was made still more ardu- 
ous by the highly complicated circumstances of the 
case. These restraints, however, Hamlet freely im- 
posed upon himself, for he could not bring himself 
to sacrifice his own moral nature or to do violence 
to his mother even in so great a cause as the aveng- 
ing of his father's murder. In Hamlet, then, the dram- 
atist has portrayed not only a most intellectual but 
also a most moral character. 

Hamlet^s Task of Revenge, 

The task of Hamlet, then, can only be appreciated 
when considered in reference to all the attendant cir- 
cumstances. The situation that the dramatist has so 
carefully developed is most portentous, and the moral 
restraints that Hamlet has imposed upon himself very 
greatly circumscribe him in the accomplishment of his 
task. The disordered internal conditions of the king- 
dom must be seen as the occasion if not the cause of 
the incipient revolt of the young Prince of Norway, 
and the threatened invasion of Denmark. As tlie son 
of the late king, and as a possible future king him- 



58 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

self, Hamlet must look upon these conditions and this 
impending invasion with great alarm. His dearest 
friend, Horatio, thoroughly understands the threat- 
ening danger, and it must be assumed that Hamlet 
knows it equally well. The circumstances are so com- 
plicated and the conditions so disheartening that no 
wonder Hamlet curses the fate that assigns him the 
task of setting it right (I. v. 189-190). 

It is into this troubled state that Shakespeare ushers 
this young and noble-minded Prince of Denmark. Crit- 
ics have seen little or no significance in this condition 
of affairs, and have not appreciated the magnitude of 
Hamlet's task. They fail to understand his motive be- 
cause they have overlooked the dramatic situation. Yet 
it is these conditions that furnish the element in his 
motive that has bafHed inquiry, and that explains the 
whole course of his conduct throughout the play. To 
understand these fully will furnish the necessary setting 
for his great burden of sorrow over the untimely death 
of his father and the "o'erhasty marriage" of his 
mother. 

All these attendant circumstances and the suspicion 
of foul play in the death of his father have induced 
in Hamlet a condition of sadness that is noticed by 
everybody about the court. The king, not knowing 
Hamlet's suspicions, and the queen, not being a party 
to the crime, endeavor to arouse him from his melan- 
choly by reminding him that his father's death was not 
exceptional, for death is common, and "all that lives 
must die, Passing through nature to eternity." To 
this Hamlet replies, "Ay, madam, it is common." He 
spurns the suggestion to put off his mourning robes, 
and intimates that something still more grievous than 
the death of his father is preying upon his mind : 



Hamlet 59 

"But I have that within which passeth show; 
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe." 

(I. ii. 85-6.) 

When the king and queen have gone out, leaving him 
to his sorrow, his first soliloquy reveals his great bur- 
den of spirit. He feels the load of grief so great that 
he would almost rather die than live. He would like to 
relieve his heart by telling his suspicions to some one, 
but they are as yet only suspicions, and he must hold 
his tongue. 

All of Hamlet's suspicions are confirmed in the pri- 
vate interview with the ghost, in the course of which 
he is called upon to ^'Revenge his foul and most unnat- 
ural murder." The story given out that his father was 
killed by the sting of a serpent the ghost first charac- 
terizes as false. Then he proceeds to reveal the truth 
that, 

"The serpent that did sting thy father's life 
Now wears the crown," 

(I. V. 39-40.) 

/ 

At once Hamlet bursts out with "O my prophetic soul," 
revealing for the first time in the play that he has sus- 
pected the real truth. Then follows the true story of 
the crime. As the king was sleeping in his orchard 
(garden) he was poisoned by his brother, Claudius, who 
at once became possessed of his crown, and, in less than 
two months, of his queen : 

"Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand 
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd." 

(I. V. 74-5.) 

This revelation and injunction assign to Hamlet his 
task. In a word, he is to revenge his father's murder, 
committed by his uncle who now wears the crown of 



60 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

Denmark. Up to this point, there is little difference 
between Hamlet and contemporary revenge plays of 
which Professor Thorndike has made such an exhaustive 
and excellent study.^ Even the earlier stories of Ham- 
let have but little of the more tragic character that 
Shakespeare has put into his play. Neither murder nor 
revenge are in themselves true tragic material. It is 
only when great human and moral issues are involved 
in them that they become tragic. These Shakespeare 
reads into the stories he borrows, or he cannot use them 
at all. Sometimes he finds hints of this character in 
his stories, and his genius gives them the tragic expres- 
sion. To most readers "The Hamlet of Belleforest was 
a crude, coarse, revengeful, unmeditative, and blood- 
thirsty murderer." ^ But Shakespeare'* grasped the 
tragic possibilities of the story, which other dramatists 
had missed, and which many critics have overlooked. 

Shakespeare's Hamlet is a play of a different sort 
from the old revenge plays. He has raised his play 
above the low level of blood vengeance by the compli- 
cations he has introduced into the problem, and by the 
larger and more patriotic intentions depicted in his 
hero. With Hamlet it is not a matter of private ven- 
geance for personal wrong, but of public revenge for a 
national treason. Hamlet has constantly in mind the 
national rather than the personal bearings of his task, 
and is always solicitous that his act when committed 
shall be seen to be an act for the public good. When 
dying he still keeps this thought in mind, and begs 
Horatio to "report me and my cause aright To the 

*"The Relations of Hamlet to Contemporary Revenge Plays," 
by A. H. Thorndike, Publications of the Modern Language Asso- 
ciation of America, 1902, pp. 125-220; New Series, Vol. X., 
No. 2. 

' Frank, The Tragedy of Hamlet, p. 132. Boston, 1910. 



Hamlet 61 

unsatisfied." (V. ii. 326-7.) He suggests that he will 
bear "a wounded name" unless Horatio shall be at 
pains to tell his story. 

The Werder theory is no doubt correct in maintain- 
ing that Hamlet not only wishes to be able to justify 
himself to his own conscience, but likewise before the 
people at large. He must so carry out his revenge that 
he will appear not as a vulgar regicide, but as a moral 
and patriotic avenger. He wishes, Werder says, to 
convince the people before the deed, and have the king 
brought to public confession and justice. Shakespeare 
had just shown in Julius Ccesar, written shortly before 
Hamlet, that a deed of killing even for public reasons 
cannot well be justified after it is committed. Better 
far to justify such an act and show its moral necessity 
before it is undertaken. 

Hamlet must, therefore, act not rashly or vindic- 
tively, but with due deliberation, and with the larger in- 
terests always in mind. To "revenge" the death of 
his father, in the complicated conditions of Shake- 
speare's play, is not the simple matter the older theories 
of Hamlet seemed to think. It is a sufficiently difficult 
and delicate task to execute vengeance upon a king in 
any case, but as Shakespeare has conceived his plot, it 
will require all the wisdom of his young scholar from 
the university. It will be necessary, moreover, to pro- 
ceed with very great Qaution and absolute secrecy for 
a time. He therefore keeps the matter of the ghost's 
revelations strictly to himself and binds his friends who 
had seen the ghost to "never make known what you have 
seen to-night." (I. v. 143.) He must quietly gather 
whatever further evidence is available, and he must 
have time to mature and perfect his plan of revenge. 
He must at the same time dispossess his uncle's mind of 



62 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

all suspicion, if possible, and for this end he resolves 
"to put an antic disposition on." 

The easiest way for Hamlet to get revenge on Clau- 
dius would be to stir up a civil war, as Laertes after- 
ward attempted, and with his popularity it would cer- 
tainly be successful. This, however, would be at the 
bloody cost of many of his innocent countrymen, and 
would at the same time invite the threatened attack 
from Fortinbras. Both of these eventualities he strives 
to avoid. Like the Hamlet of Belleforest, he will not 
involve his countrymen in his undertaking. He wants 
to strike the king without striking his native land. His 
task, therefore, is enormous, and it must be executed 
single-handed. He must strike the king, and at the 
same time prevent civil war, and a condition that would 
lay the country open to foreign attack. He must, 
therefore, be very cautious, and when he acts must ap- 
pear like the ghost in armor — a defender and not a 
destroyer of his country. 

Hamlet does not like the task of revenge, and frankly 
says so. But as a dutiful son and patriotic prince he 
is willing to go through with it even at the cost of his 
own life. It is no easy matter to attack one who is 
surrounded with all the power and prerogatives of roy- 
alty. Claudius flatters himself that he is safe, hedged 
in as he says by divinity and surrounded by so many 
hirelings. The task is therefore a gigantic undertaking 
for a young and inexperienced prince, and, as Shake- 
speare has pictured it, worthy of the noblest and most 
intellectual character in his entire drama. 

Hamlefs ''Antic Disposition.^^ 

There is much evidence in the play that Hamlet de- 
liberately feigned fits of madness in order to confuse 



Hamlet 6S 

and disconcert the king and his attendants. His 
avowed intention to act "strange or odd" and to "put 
an antic disposition on" ^ (I. v. 170, 172) is not the 
only indication. The latter phrase, which is of doubt- 
ful interpretation, should be taken in its context and in 
connection with his other remarks that bear on the 
same question. To his old friend, Guildenstern, he in- 
timates that "his uncle-father and aunt-mother are de- 
ceived," and that he is only "mad north-north-west." 
(II. ii. 360.) But the intimation seems to mean noth- 
ing to the dull ears of his old school- fellow. His only 
comment is given later when he advises that Hamlet's 
is "a crafty madness." (III. i. 8.) 

When completing with Horatio the arrangements for 
the play, and just before the entrance of the court 
party, Hamlet says, "I must be idle." (III. ii. 85.) 
This evidently is a declaration of his intention to be 
"foolish," as Schmidt has explained the word.^ Then 
to his mother in the Closet Scene, he distinctly refers 
to the belief held by some about the court that he is 
mad, and assures her that he is intentionally acting 
the part of madness in order to attain his object: 

"I essentially am not in madness, 
But mad in craft." 

(III. iv. 187-8.) 

This pretense of madness Shakespeare borrowed from 
the earlier versions of the story. The fact that he has 
made it appear like real madness to many critics to-day 
only goes to show the wideness of his knowledge and 
the greatness of his dramatic skill. 

^Cf. Romeo and Juliet (I. v. 54), where "antic face" means a 
mask, and also Richard II (III. ii. 162) and Henry VI (IV. 
vii. 18). 

^ Of. Shakespeare-Lexicon, by Alexander Schmidt, 3rd editioHj 
Berlin, 1903. 



64 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

In the play the only persons who regard Hamlet as 
really mad are the king and his henchmen, and even 
these are troubled with many doubts. Polonius is the 
first to declare him mad, and he thinks it is because 
Ophelia has repelled his love. He therefore reports to 
the king that "Your noble son is mad" (II. ii. 92), and 
records the various stages leading to his so-called mad- 
ness (II. ii. 145-150). No sooner, however, has he 
reached this conviction than Hamlet's clever toying 
with the old gentleman leads him to admit that "Though 
this be madness, yet there is method in't." (II. ii. 
203-4.) 

Though it suits the king's purpose to accept this 
pronouncement of Polonius, he is never quite convinced 
of its truth. His instructions to his henchmen, "Get 
from him why he puts on this confusion" (III. i. 2), 
imply that he understands it as pretence and not real 
lunacy. He soon admits that Hamlet's actions and 
words do not indicate madness but melancholy : 

"What he spake, though it laek'd form a little, 
Was not like madness." 

(III. i. 163-4.) 

But it serves his wicked purpose to declare him a mad- 
man, and to make this the excuse for getting rid of him 
by sending him to England. In this as in everything 
the king is insincere, and seeks not the truth but his 
own personal ends. 

Ophelia's view that Hamlet has gone mad for love 
of her is of no value on the point. She is herself, rather 
than Hamlet, "Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and 
harsh." (HI. i. 158.) The poor distracted girl is no 
judge of lunacy, and knows little of real sanity. She 
cannot enter into the depth of his mind, and cannot 



Hamlet 65 

understand that it is her own conduct that is strange 
and incoherent. 

There need be no doubt, then, that Hamlet's mad- 
ness was really feigned. He saw much to be gained by 
it, and to this end he did many things that the persons 
of the drama must construe as madness. His avowed 
intention was to throw them off the track. To under- 
stand the madness as real is to make of the play a mad- 
house tragedy that could have no meaning for the very 
sane Englishmen for whom Shakespeare wrote. There 
is dramatic value in such madness as Lear's, for the 
play traces the causes of his madness, and the influences 
that restore him. Lear's madness had its roots in his 
moral and spiritual defects, and the cure was his moral 
regeneration. But no such dramatic value can be as- 
signed to Hamlet's madness. Shakespeare never makes 
of his dramas mere exhibitions of human experience, 
wise or otherwise, but they are all studies in the spir- 
itual life of man. His dramas are always elaborate 
attempts to get a meaning out of life, not attempts to 
show either its mystery, or its inconsequence, or its 
madness. If Hamlet were thought of as truly mad, 
then his entrances and his exits could convey no mean- 
ing to sane persons, except the lesson to avoid insan- 
ity. But it needs no drama to teach that.^ 

HarrdeVs Humor, 

One of the most outstanding characteristics of Ham- 
let is his subtle and persistent humor. It crops out 
at every turn, ^nd indicates the essential soundness 
of his mind. Madness docs not lie this way. Though 
his troubles were sufficient and his task difficult enougli 

^ Cf. Snider, Shakespeare Commentaries, Tragedies, chapters on 
Hamlet, pp. 286 if. St. Louis, 1887. 



66 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

to unbalance almost any mind, yet Hamlet retains from 
first to last a calm and firm grasp of the situation in 
both its complexity and its incongruity. No charac- 
ter in all Shakespeare is more evenly balanced, and no 
mind more capable of seeing things in all their bear- 
ings. 

If Hamlet does not really go mad under his unparal- 
leled griefs and burdens it is because under all cir- 
cumstances his grim and tragic humor holds evenly 
the balance of his mind. In some of the most tragic 
moments of his career he has the sanity to play with 
his tormentors and with the sad conditions of his life. 
As Sir Herbert Tree has recently said: "But for 
humor he should go mad. Sanity is humor." ^ 

The same eminent critic asserts that, "If the quality 
of humor is important in comedy, it is, I venture to say, 
yet more important in tragedy, whether it be in the 
tragedy of life or in the tragedy of the theatre." ^ 
With reference to this element of humor in the play of 
Hamlet Sir Herbert Tree says : "In Hamlet, for in- 
stance, the firmament of tragedy is made blacker by 
the jewels of humor with which it is bestarred. . . . 
The first words Hamlet sighs forth are in the nature 
of a pun: 

" *A little more than kin, and less than kind.' 

"The king proceeds : 'How is it that the clouds still 
hang on you?' 'Not so, my lord; I am too much in 
the sun,' says Hamlet, toying with grief. Again, after 
the ghost leaves, Hamlet in a tornado of passionate 

* "Humor in Tragedy," by Sir Herbert Tree. Article in The 
English Review, November, 1915. In dealing with the present 
topic I find myself greatly indebted to this lecture by the dis- 
tinguished actor and critic. 

^Ihid., p. 352. 



Hamlet 67 

verbiage, gives way to humor. Then he proceeds to 
think too precisely on the event. But for his humor 
Hamlet would have killed the king in the first act." ^ 
In nearly all his references to the condition of af- 
fairs in Denmark, Hamlet indulges in a grim, satirical 
humor. His first meeting with Horatio furnishes op- 
portunity. Directly a.fter the warm greetings between 
the friends the following conversation takes place: 

Hamlet, But what is your affair in Elsinore? . . . 
Horatio. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. 
Hamlet. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; 

I think it was to see my mother's wedding. 
Horatio. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. 
Hamlet. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked-meats 

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 

(I. ii. 174-180.) 

Again, when Hamlet is swearing his friends to secrecy 
concerning the ghost, they hear the voice of the ghost 
beneath, saying, "Swear," and Hamlet remarks: 

"Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art there, true-penny — 
Come on; you hear this fellow in the cellarage; 
Consent to swear." 

When, after shifting their ground, the ghost's voice is 
again heard, saying, "Swear," Hamlet says : 

"Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast? 
A worthy pioner!" 

(I. V. 148-163) 

After his play. The Mouse-trap, Hamlet feels so 
elated at the turn of events and his success in getting 
evidence of the king's guilt that he playfully suggests 
to Horatio that if all else failed him he might make a 
success of playing and get a share in a company : 

Hamlet. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, — if the 
rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, — with two Provincial 

^ "Humor in Tragedy," p. SG6. 



68 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, 
sir? 

Horatio. Half a share. 
Hamlet. A whole one, I. 

For thou dost know, O Damon dear, 

This realm dismantled was 
Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
A very, very — ^pajock. 
Horatio, You might have rhymed. 

(III. ii. 263-273). 

Even in his conversation with Ophelia there is a 
touch of Hamlet's ironical humor. He slanders him- 
self, saying: "I could accuse me of such things that 
it were better my mother had not borne me." Then, 
after Ophelia's false declaration that her father is "at 
home, my lord," he falls to railing on women and mar- 
riage, and says to her: 

"I heard of your paintings, too, well enough; God has given 
you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you 
amble, and you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make 
your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more marriages; 
those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest 
shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go." 

(III. i. 142-9.) 

In talking with the various spies that the king sends 
to catch him, Hamlet indulges in much humor and 
banter. He seems to take particular delight in plagu- 
ing old Polonius with his sarcasm and nonsense. When 
Polonius comes to him, asking, "Do you know me, my 
lord.'^" Hamlet quickly retorts: "Excellent well; you 
are a fishmonger." Then, after further satirical ban- 
ter of the same sort, in reply to Polonius's inquiry 
what he is reading, he answers: "Slanders, sir; for the 
satirical rogue says here that old men have grey 
beards, that their faces are wrinkled . . . and that 



Hamlet 69 

they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most 
weak hams. . . ." (11. ii. 173-199). 

Again, on the occasion when Polonius comes to sum- 
mon him to the queen's presence, Hamlet pokes fun at 
the old fellow, making him say that "yonder cloud," 
first, is "like a camel," then, "like a weasel," and, 
finally, "like a whale." (III. ii. 359-365.) No won- 
der Polonius does not know what to make of him and 
calls him mad, though recognizing the possibility that 
there may be some "method in't." 

Another aspect of Hamlet's humor glints forth in 
his dealings with his old school-fellows, Rosencrantz 
and Guildenstern. When these unconscionable spies 
come to him to inquire what he had done with the 
dead body of Polonius, he first answers : "Compounded 
it with dust, whereto 't is kin." Then he suggests that 
Rosencrantz is only "a sponge . . . that soaks up 
the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. 
. . . When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but 
squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again." 

With Osric he gives way to a bantering and jeering 
humor very similar to that with Polonius. He first 
calls him a "water-fly," then "a chough . . . spacious 
in the possession of dirt." When Osric says, as an ex- 
cuse for not keeping his hat on his head, that " 'tis 
very hot," Hamlet makes him say that on the contrary, 
"It is indiff^erent cold, my lord, indeed," and the next 
moment again that "it is very sultry and hot." 
(V. ii. 83-99.) 

In the graveyard scene with the clowns Hamlet in- 
dulges freely in a grim and melancholy humor. On 
the first skull he says: "It might be the pate of a poli- 
tician . . . one that would circumvent God, might it 



70 HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

not?" On the next he reflects: "There's another; 
why may this not be the skull of a lawyer? Where be 
his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, 
and his tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave 
now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, 
and will not tell him of his action of battery?" Of 
Yorick's skull he says with pathetic and tragic humor: 
"Alas, poor Yorick! — I knew him, Horatio; a fellow 
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." Then to the 
skull he says: "Where be j'Our gibes now? your gam- 
bols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were 
wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to 
mock your grinning? quite chop-fallen?" (V. i.) 

"Even in dying," as Sir Herbert Tree says, "he 
breaks into a sweet irony of humor, in meeting the 'fell 
Serjeant death.' 'The rest is silence.' Hamlet ends 
as he began, in humor's minor key. Here is the humor 
of tragedy with a vengeance. Poor Hamlet, too much 
humor had'st thou for this harsh world !" ^ 

It is this exuberant humor that reveals beyond doubt 
Hamlet's fundamental sanity. Shakespeare was too 
good a judge of character and of human nature to 
mingle such humor with madness. He has given Ham- 
let nearly all varieties of humor, from the playful to 
the sardonic. Speaking of the king, Hamlet's humor 
is caustic and satirical. To Polonius and the other 
spies he is playful and contemptuous. In the grave- 
yard over the skulls he is sardonic and pathetic, and 
over Yorick's he is melanchol>\ In all alike he is sane 
and thoughtful. This unfailing humor that toys with 
life's comedies and tragedies alike does not come from 
madness, but from sanity and self-possession. This 
should make certain the real soundness as well as the 
* "Humor in Tragedy," p. 367. 



Hamlet 71 

great fertility of Hamlet's mind. Humor and mad- 
ness do not travel the same road. 

''Harrdefs Transformation.'' 

The Hamlet that appears in the drama is not the 
Hamlet with whom the other characters of the play are 
familiar. Up to the opening of the play there had 
been apparently nothing about him to mark him off 
from his friends and companions. He had grown up 
with no noticeable qualities or peculiarities, and had 
had no other plan of life than that which young princes 
generally pursue. He had been at college, acquiring 
the education and culture proper to his place in life. 
He appears to have grown up to the strength of a 
noble young manhood as the leader of a group of 
friends, all of whom esteemed him highly. He was a 
good friend, a devoted son, a most popular prince, and 
was not moved by any great ambitions, nor by any 
designs against any one. 

But when he first appears on the stage in the royal 
presence (I. ii), he is marked as a melancholy man. 
His mother remonstrates with him for going about with 
his eyes downcast, and for being morose and sad. His 
• mother even requests him to leave off his mourning gar- 
ments, his "inky cloak" as he calls it, and accuses him 
of mourning over-much for his father. The king^ too, 
tries to draw him away from his sorrows, by remind- 
ing him that he is not the first to lose a father, saying, 
"your father lost a father." Then he thinks to console 
him by suggesting that he will himself be a father to 
him, and that he is next heir to the throne. The king 
denies his request, however, to return to the university, 
and says that instead they will have plentiful festivities 
in Denmark. At a later time he speaks of the great 



72 Hamlet, an Ideal Pri/nce 

change in him as "Hamlet's transformation," and in- 
structs his courtiers "To draw him on to pleasures.'' 
(II. ii. 15.) At the same time the king begins to won- 
der if there is anything afflicting Hamlet besides the 
death of his father. 

Hamlet's melancholy, as we know, was due not so 
much to the suddenness and unexpectedness of his 
father's death, as to the suspicious circumstances. He 
knew that the king had stolen his "precious diadem," 
when he secured his own immediate election to the crown 
of Denmark, but he seemed to grieve very little over his 
loss. He knew also that there was an unseemly haste 
in the marriage of the king and his mother that re- 
flected somewhat upon her honor. Then he had suspi- 
cions that the death of his father was not as it was 
given out, but that there was some foul play on his 
uncle's part. The interview with the ghost had made 
this more than a suspicion. 

The revelations of the ghost wrought a great change 
in the mind and habits of Hamlet. In an instant he 
experienced another transformation that was to change 
him into an active participant in passing events. This 
change was chiefly a subjective and moral transforma- 
tion, which he tried to conceal, especially from the 
king. The ghost had called upon him to revenge the 
murder, and he had definitely dedicated himself to that 
great task. He had promised the ghost that he would 
wipe from the table of his memory "all trivial fond 
records" : 

"And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain." 

(I. V. 102-3) 

This change, however, he could not conceal entirely, 
for it manifested itself in his outer behavior. Ophelia 



Hamlet 73 

noticed it when he next visited her and spoke of it to 
her father. He had been accustomed to such a scrupu- 
lous neatness in dress and courtliness of manner that 
she later spoke of him as "The glass of fashion, and 
the mould of form." (III. i. 153.) But now all this 
had disappeared, and he grew careless about his ap- 
parel, and even came to her in loose attire, and pain- 
fully nervous : 

"Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; 
And with a look so piteous in purport 
As if he had been loosed out of hell 
To speak of horrors." 

(II. i. 81-84.) 

To this offence he added the apparent rudeness of 
staring her in the face for some time, and then went 
out of the door keeping his eye upon her to the last. 
Hamlet was evidently testing her to see if she was likely 
to be true to him in the new task the ghost had assigned 
him. 

This visit of the ghost, then, marked the adoption of 
his new purpose, and changed the whole trend of his 
life. Henceforth, the revenge becomes his one all-ab- 
sorbing aim. His conception of duty hereafter rules, 
and he makes everything else subservient. His whole 
life is now to be devoted to his filial duty. This great 
change in his life the dramatist has portrayed fully for 
his audience that they may be impressed with the effect 
of the ghost's visit upon the mind of Hamlet, and that 
they may realize its importance in the development of 
both plot and character. 

HamleVs Melancholy. 

From the opening of the play Hamlet has been 
marked as a melancholy man. Apparently this had not 



74 HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

been his previous character, for the king has spoken of 

it as "Hamlet's transformation." This change in him 
was brought about by brooding on the events that had 
just happened, and had been not only a mental but 
especially a moral reaction. 

Hamlet is portrayed as having a very sensitive and 
a very moral nature. He had been greatly shocked by 
the things that had happened, and the suspicions he 
harbored constituted a direct challenge to his moral 
faith. If the truth was as he feared, then there was 
occasion to question the righteousness and justice of 
the world, and to wonder if life were worth living. This, 
apparently, was Hamlet's first encounter with great 
trouble, with the slings and arrows of outrageous for- 
tune, and it proved a great trial to his moral nature. 

When the first of these disturbing events occurred, 
Hamlet was at the university, and apparenth^ he did 
not arrive in Denmark until they had all come to pass. 
The first of these was the sudden death of his father; 
caused as it was given out by a serpent's sting. The 
circumstances were suspicious and pointed to his uncle, 
Claudius, but there was no certain evidence. 

Then followed immediately the election of Claudius 
as the new king, apparentlj^ before Hamlet could reach 
Denmark. The great popularity of Hamlet and the 
great love the people bore him, were doubtless known 
by him, and would cause him to think his uncle had 
tricked him in the matter of the election. 

Within two months followed his mother's marriage 
to his uncle Claudius, which she herself afterward spoke 
of as their "o'erhasty marriage." To Hamlet this 
seemed so improper, and followed so hard upon the 
funeral of his father that he sarcastically spoke of it 
as due to 



Hamlet 75 

"Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked-meats 
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables." 

(I. ii. 180-1.) 

These events had all occurred before the opening of 
the play, for when his uncle and mother appear on the 
stage for the first time (I. ii.) they are already king 
and queen. Hamlet, then, confronts these as accom- 
plished facts, and his mind is troubled. The suspected 
villainy of his father's sudden death caused him great 
worry. He was not much concerned about losing the 
crown. But he was stirred to the depths of his moral 
nature by what he regarded as his mother's incestuous 
and o'erhasty marriage. 

Added to these was the further fact that under the 
rule of Claudius his beloved Denmark was degenerating 
and being given over to corruption and to pleasure. 
Everything seemed to him to have gone wrong. His 
father is dead, his mother dishonored, and his country 
disgraced and weakened. 

Under these conditions it is little wonder that he be- 
came melancholy, and was in doubt whether or not it 
was worth while to live. All he was chiefly interested 
in had failed. The men who were left did not interest 
him nor the women either. He was thrown cruelly 
back upon himself, and obliged to weigh everything 
anew. His confidence in the moral government of the 
world was shaken, and his moral faith was shattered. 
Everj^thing that was most dear to him had apparently 
been forsaken of heaven, and he was left to struggle on 
alone. Under these adverse circumstances he wishes 
he were dead, and exclaims against the world : 

"How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world!" 
(I. ii. 133-4.) 



76 Ha/?nlet, an Ideal Pri/nce 

This, tlun, is Hamlet's iiulHiicholy. It is the mehui- 
choly of the philosophical mind, and is induced by the 
evils into the midst of wliich his yonn^ life is suddenly 
plunged. The course of the play discloses his efforts to 
overcome his doubts and to retrain his native faith in 
God and in goodness and to right tlic wrongs about him. 
The greatness of his mind and character is seen in 
the fact that he soon recovers from the first rude shock, 
and holding his faith in the ultimate victory of trutii 
find right, he conclu(l(\s that ""It is not, nor it cannot 
come to good." (I. ii. 158.) Never again does he allow 
himsi^lf to fall into tlie slough of d(\s|)o!Kl, but through 
darkness and light he holds to his faith in right. 

Ilawlct a Nationdl Hero, 

There is no doubt that Hamlet from the first under- 
stood his task as more than taking the life of the king. 
With the relw^llion of l^'ortinbras thref\tening, and on 
the "'background of general corruption" which the rule 
of Claudius had induced, he saw his task to be a gigan- 
tic national undertaking. ITe was not calh^d merely 
to the physical labor of the hangman, but to the moral 
task of the restorer of righteousness. To take the lift 
of the nuirderer needed only the nerve of the common 
assassin, but to '* revenge" the death of the late king 
called for wisdom and tact of the highest order. ^ He 
well knew that he could not purge his country with aTi 
ass/issin's dagger, nor [)urify it by the king\s blood. 
Unlike Fortinbras and Laertes, his passion was not vin- 
dictiveness, and could not be satisfic^l by avenging a 
guilty king on an iiuiocent nation. 

An immediate attack upon the king, then, might have 
been courageous, but it would have been foolhardy, and 
would have frustrated Hamlet's larger designs. The 



Hamlet 77 

king was beginning to have a wholesome fear of Ham- 
let, and seemed to live in dread lest he should raise up 
an open rebellion against him. He thought himself 
of bringing the issue with Hamlet to pubhc accounting, 
but he was afraid of Hamlet's popularity, as he later 
admits to Laertes, 

"Why to a public counl I might not go, 
Is the great h>ve the general gender hear him." 

(IV. vii. 17-18.) 

Nothing would have been easier than for Hamlet to 
make it a j)ublic issue. If it was easy for Laertes at a 
later time to raise uf) a band against the king whom he 
thought had killed his father, it would have been doubly 
easy now for Hamlet, who according to ('laudius him- 
self was ^'loved of the distracted multitude." Hut this 
was the very thing Hamlet wished to avoid. He sees 
his nation already j)reparing to resist the threatened 
attack from Norway, and with heroic self-restraint and 
true patriotism he refrains from anything that might 
encourage the enemy. He is commissioned rather to 
save his country, as well from foreign aggression, as 
from the internal corruption that threatens its very ex- 
istence. The case is desperate and the task difficult, 
and he would gladly pursue a more tranquil career. 
But he rises to the necessity, howsoever reluctantly, and 
steadfastly pursues his appointed task. 

In all this Hamlet remembers the warning of the 
ghost not to taint his mind. He obeys the injunction 
to keep a clear conscience, and not make himself a 
worse criminal in revenging the crime of his uncle. 
This marks the higher j)ur[)ose and superior nobleness 
of character that Shakespeare has put into his Hamlet, 
thereby raising the tone of his play above all other 
versions of the story. The spirit of some other versions 



78 HamUty an Ideal Prince 

of the Hamlet story is very different, as may be gath- 
ered from the German phiy. Fratricide Pinushed, where 
we find in the Prologue the following injunction to the 
prince: ''Therefore be ready to sow the seeds of dis- 
union, mingle passion witli tlicir marriage, and put 
jealousy in their hearts. Kindle a fire of revenge, let 
tlie sparks fly over the whole realm ; entangle kinsmen 
in tlie net of crime, and give joy to liell, so that those 
who swim in the sea of murder may soon drown." ^ 

This, however, was the very thing that Hamlet made 
ever}^ effort to avoid. As in the version of Belief orest, 
Hamlet was a deliverer of his people. He tried to save 
his beloved country from the unjust and corrupt rule 
of the king, and, as Shakespeare has added to his story, 
he had also to ward oft* the threatened attack of Fortin- 
bras. Shakespeare has, therefore, made his task doubly 
difficult. He must revenge his father, which means he 
must deliver Denmark from the corrupting rule of 
Claudius. And he must do this without laying the 
country open to an attack from Fortinbras. The 
dramatist has made his task more complicated and 
hence more difficult than in any other version of the 
story. But in carrying him through without complete 
failure in either of his purposes, he has depicted in him 
a true national hero. 

Hamlet a Man of Peace. 

In Hamlet, then, Shakespeare has portrayed a kind 
of national hero that was new to his age. As the elder 
Hamlet would not make war except to save his country 
from attack, the younger Hamlet would do nothing 
that would bring about a civil war in Denmark, or that 
would invite an invasion from Fortinbras. This young 
* Furness's translation, Variorum Uamlet, II. p. 129. 



Hajnlet 79 

prince was of a different stripe, and waged wars for 
ambition. As his captain expressed it: 

"We go to gain a little patch of ground 
That hath in it no profit but the name." 
(IV. iv. 18-19.) 

This was the old type of hero, who like the Roman gen- 
erals laid other nations under tribute and brought 
many captives home to Rome. This old nationalism 
was aggressive and ruthless, and gloried in subjugating 
other peoples to its rule. 

But Shakespeare had a vision of a new type of hero 
and of a new nationalism of peace. In the elder and 
younger Hamlet he has depicted heroes who would not 
force war upon others, and who would consent to war 
only to hold the possessions they had from the de- 
spoiler. The older wars had been the quarrels of ambi- 
tious and greedy kings who had not hesitated like the 
elder Fortinbras to dare his neighbors to combat in the 
hope of gaining territory or tribute. With these wars 
Shakespeare was entirely out of sympathy, as so many 
of his plays give evidence. His Henry the Fifth will 
not go to war to steal from France, but only to rescue 
those provinces which are assuredly his by right. 

Shakespeare's Hamlet, then, is a patriot and hero of 
a new type, who aims only to do what is for the good 
of his country. Werder, therefore, is surely right when 
he says his purpose is not so much to punish Claudius 
as to brin^ him to justice, — to "revenge" his father's 
murder. His very inaction, wrongly called procrasti- 
nation, assumes the character of the highest self-re- 
straint and patriotism. His one fault is that he cannot 
always completely restrain himself in the face of sucli 
terrible provocation, and he occasionally suffers him- 
self to act rashly and without due deliberation. 



80 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

Many writers have answered the old error of the 
Goethe-Coleridge theory that Hamlet is incapable of 
action. On the contrar}^ he is quite capable of instant 
and swift action. He very quickly avails himself of 
the services of the players brought to court to amuse 
him, and turns them to good account. When he dis- 
covers some one behind the arras in his interview with 
his mother, he makes a sudden and daring pass that 
shows him not only capable of action but of impetuous 
and instant action. Again, on shipboard he proves 
himself gallant in boarding the pirate ship. And in the 
last encounter of the play, when treachery and villainy 
are manifest, he quickly dispatches not only Laertes 
but also the king. 

The trouble with Hamlet is not inability to act, but 
an occasional inability to restrain himself in the midst 
of great provocation. It is only his determined inten- 
tion to follow the ways of peace that holds him back at 
all. In the main he has most admirable self-control, 
and acts only as he has deliberately planned. In so 
great an undertaking as the revenge of his father 
amidst the troubled conditions of the times he needs 
to lay his plans well and be sure before he strikes, in 
order not to fail in his purpose or to give occasion for 
further trouble. It is only his occasional failure to 
restrain himself that is the immediate cause of the fa- 
tality of the drama. 

IV 

The King and Hamlet. 

From the beginning of the play Hamlet has been a 
great problem and perplexity to the king. As the one 
living person most grievously injured by the murder of 



Hamlet 81 

the late king, the guilty conscience of Claudius compels 
him to keep an eye on Hamlet. He has shown such 
diabolical cleverness in the murder of his brother that 
at first he has little fear that Hamlet will discover the 
truth. He is alarmed at his melancholy, and the first 
words he addresses to him in the play disclose his anx- 
iety: 

"But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son, . . . 
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?" 

(I. ii. 64, QQ,) 

Assuming that his sadness all comes from the death of 
his father, the king tries to reconcile Hamlet to the 
death by reminding him that "all that lives must die, 
Passing through nature to eternity." (72-3.) Seeing 
he cannot divert Hamlet's mind by chiding him, he then 
commends him for mourning for his father, and tries 
to turn his mind to his own affairs by saying to him, 
"You are the most immediate to our throne," and de- 
nies his request to return to Wittenberg, begging him, 

"to remain 
Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, 
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son." 

(I. ii. 115-7.) 

This feigned solicitude on behalf of Hamlet, the king 
carries out very adroitly, and succeeds in impressing it 
upon his henchmen. Rosencrantz has learned it, and 
at a later time gives it utterance. When he tries to 
draw out of him the cause of his distemper, Hamlet 
replies : "Sir, I lack advancement." Then Rosen- 
crantz quickly responds: "How can that be, when 
you have the voice of the king himself for your succes- 
sion in Denmark.?" (HI. ii. 325-326.) 

All this, of course, fails to deceive Hamlet, who is 
only made the sadder by the assurance of the king's 



82 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

dissimulation. In the great soliloquy in which he un- 
burdens his heart, he sees no way out of his sorrows, 
and wishes that he might die. With no jot of any ob- 
jective evidence, and with his suspicions plaguing him, 
Hamlet finds it necessary to conduct himself circum- 
spectly in all his dealings with the king. Morally cer- 
tain of the king's guilt, and assured of his depraved 
character, he breaks out into a flood of inquiries when 
first he sees his father's ghost. He begs piteously of 
the ghost, 

"Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell 
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, 
Have burst their cerements; . . . 
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?" 

(I. iv. 46-57.) 

There can be no doubt that after the disclosures of 
the ghost Hamlet wanted to kill the king. He evi- 
dently had this as part of his plan, and was awaiting 
only the proper time. He not only conceived it as no 
wrong, but even as a moral duty. - He later said to 
Horatio, 

"is't not perfect conscience 
To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd. 
To let this canker of our nature come 
In further evil?" 

(V. ii. 67-70.) 

He wanted to kill the king, and, doubtless, as Bradley 
says, ''without sacrificing his own life or freedom." He 
did not want to leave "a wounded name," but as Werder 
thinks he hoped to make it appear to the people as a 
right and proper revenge for the king's crime. And 
he therefore waited only for such objective evidence as 
would confirm his suspicions and as could be presented 
to the people. Hamlet had no desire to play the part 



Hamlet 83 

of an assassin, but his conception of duty made him 
willing to take up the task of moral avenger. 

The first step in the confirmation of Hamlet's sus- 
picions was the disclosures of the ghost. This, how- 
ever, did not fully and finally convince him, for he 
thought he might be deceived and the spirit he had 
seen might be an evil spirit that was trying to lead him 
to destruction: 

"The spirit that I have seen 
May be the devil; and the devil hath power 
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps 
Out of my weakness and my melancholy. 
As he is very potent with such spirits. 
Abuses me to damn me." 

(II. ii. 574-5T9.) 

He therefore resolves not to act without further evi- 
dence, and to await, as he says, "grounds More rela- 
tive." (U. 579-80.) 

For some time no means of obtaining the required 
evidence was at hand. Hamlet therefore had nothing 
to do but wait. The wished-for opportunity came only 
with the advent of the players. He had failed entirely 
to obtain any objective evidence of the suspected mur- 
der, but he at once saw in the play the chance to secure 
some real evidence. His quick wit seized upon the idea 
of having the players enact a scene like the reported 
murder of his father, and the response of the king to 
this play would reveal beyond doubt his guilt or inno- 
cence : 

"I'll have these players 
Play something like the murder of my father 
Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks; 
I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench, 
I know my course." 

(II. ii. 570-4.) 



84 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

Before the enactment of the play he took Horatio into 
his confidence, telhng him that one scene of the play 
would "come near the circumstance, Which I have told 
thee, of my father's death." (III. ii. 71-2.) Then he 
asked him to observe his uncle, and afterwards they 
would consult together and judge "his seeming.' 



, 5J 



The Polonius Family, 

In all his treacherous and nefarious undertakings the 
king found willing accomplices and tools. The chief 
of these was his crafty and unscrupulous old steward, 
Polonius. From the beginning there is evidence that 
the king had had assistance from him in the murder of 
his brother. When Laertes asked permission to return 
to Paris the king showed evidence of his obligation to 
Polonius by assuring Laertes that he would do what- 
ever Polonius desired in the matter: 

"The head is not more native to the heart, 
The hand more instrumental to the mouth, 
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?" 

(I. ii. 47-50.) 

When Polonius requests it, the king immediately gives 
his permission for Laertes to return to Paris. 

On his part, Polonius is at the king's service, and is 
prepared to go any length to please him : 

"I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, 
Both to my God and to my gracious king." 

(II. ii. 44-5.) 

Just what assistance he had rendered the king in dis- 
posing of his brother and securing the crown the play 
does not make clear. But the deep debt the king ac- 
knowledges to Polonius suggests some very important 
and valuable service. Hamlet from the first knows he 



Hamlet 85 

is dishonest and untrustworthy. When Polonius re- 
sents being called a "fishmonger," Hamlet says : "Then 
I would you were so honest a man." (II. ii. 175.) 

The parting scene with Laertes discloses the subtle 
and crafty character of the entire Polonius family, and 
reveals further their close relation to the royal house- 
hold. Even Laertes appears as a suspicious and not 
over-honorable young man. His parting advice to his 
sister shows him to have an evil mind, and exhibits him 
as crafty and "wise," but not generous or noble-minded. 
Ophelia on her part suspects that her brother, while 
exhorting her to virtue, himself follows pleasure : 

"But, good my brother. 
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do. 
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven. 
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine. 
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads 
And recks not his own rede." 

(I. iii. 46-51.) 

Polonius himself appears exceedingly sagacious and 
cunning, and entirely lacking in moral principles. He 
is perfectly willing to do any bidding of the king, and 
is only a crafty old time-server. His advice to his 
daughter shows him very politic and very indelicate, 
but entirely lacking in the larger wisdom. Ophelia 
herself is a tender-hearted maiden, but her rearing 
under the tuition of her subtle father has made her 
weak and tractable. This scene depicts the entire 
family in a very unfavorable light, that is not sub- 
stantially changed throughout the rest of the play. 

Polonius is so naturally suspicious and crafty that 
he even spies upon Laertes in Paris. On sending Rey- 
naldo to him with money, he instructs him before he 
visits Laertes "to make inquiry Of his behavior." (II. 



86 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

i. 4-5.) The methods he instructs Reynaldo to employ 
are in themselves low and dishonorable. 

It is in connection with Ophelia, however, that the 
base, unscrupulous character of Polonius is most in 
evidence. He induces this poor, foolish girl to give 
up her letters from Hamlet that he may look them 
over and read them to the king in order to see if they 
can find anything to trap Hamlet. He is completely 
at the king's service, and when he inquires of the king. 
"What do you think of me.?" the king replies, "As of 
a man faithful and honorable." (H. ii. 128-129.) 
Polonius is so well satisfied with his own ability as a 
spy that he assures the king he will find out the mys- 
tery of Hamlet without doubt, for he can find truth 
even when hid in the centre of the earth. (II. ii. 157-8.) 

The master-piece of the old man's villainy, however, 
is his use of his daughter as a decoy to entrap Hamlet. 
In his zeal to serve the king he does not hesitate to 
sacrifice his daughter, for which Hamlet calls him 
"Jephthah." He arranges with the king that some 
time when Hamlet is walking in the lobby, as he fre- 
quently does, then 

"At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him; 
Be you and I behind an arras then." 

(II. ii. 161-2.) 

This suits the king admirably, and he explains it to the 
queen, requesting lier withdrawal: 

"For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, 
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here 
Affront Ophelia. 

Her father and myself, lawful espials, 
Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen, 
We may of their encounter frankly judge." 

(III. i. 29-34.) 



Hamlet 87 

In the interview Hamlet treats Ophelia most hon- 
orably until he discovers that he is speaking as well 
to ears behind the arras. Most students, and especially 
the actors, are conscious of deficient stage directions 
for this scene, and recognize the need of some visible 
or audible move upon the part of Polonius or the king 
that reveals their presence to Hamlet.^ At once the 
tone of Hamlet changes, and he turns harshly upon 
Ophelia, and takes back all words of affection. Then, 
apparently thinking she may not realize the baseness 
of her treachery and thinking to give her one more 
chance to disavow her part in it, he inquires, "Where's 
your father?" When she replies, "At home, my lord," 
he is sure not only that she is a party to the spying 
but that she is also untruthful. Then with a few 
harsh words he leaves her, never to trust her again. 

It is Hamlet's fate to be concerned in the death of 
all the Polonius family. Ophelia, discarded, broods 
over her misfortune, and at last goes distracted. No 
doubt the sadness and disappointment of her relations 
with Hamlet had something to do with her madness and 
her death. Polonius himself pays for his treachery 
with his life the next time he attempts to spy upon 
Hamlet in the interview with the queen. Laertes sur- 
vives until induced by the king to accept the duel with 
Hamlet, when he is killed with the poisoned rapier 
he had treacherously prepared for the prince. He 
lived to discover the insidious designs of tlie king in 
arranging the duel, and to repent his part in it. He 
acknowledged his own wrong-doing, saying, "I am 
justly kill'd with mine own treachery" (V. ii. 294), and 
with his dying words absolved Hamlet from all blame 

^ Cf. Some Thoughts on Hamlet, by H. B. Irving, pp. 21-22, 
Sydney, Australia, 1911. 



88 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

either for his father's or his own death, and begged 
his forgiveness : 

"Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet; 
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, 
Xor mine on me!" 

(V. ii. 316-8.) 

HafTilet's School-Fellows. 

The king had also other willing but less capable spies 
in his service. We find him using two of Hamlet's play- 
mates (II. ii. 11) and school-fellows, Rosencrantz and 
Guildenstern (III. iv. 202), pretending to be anxious to 
remedy Hamlet's trouble. He instructs these young 
men, 

*To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather . . . 
Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him thus." 

(II. ii. 15-17.) 

The king seems to hope and to fear against hope that 
his nephew has no suspicions of the murder, though 
he thinks it best to watch him very carefully. At first 
these old friends of Hamlet's may not have known the 
treachery of the king, and may not have intended to be 
used against him, but later they prove themselves the 
willing tools of any baseness the king can devise. They 
continued to do the king's bidding after Hamlet had 
made it very apparent that he regarded them as trai- 
tors to his own interests. 

With the resourcefulness that so often characterizes 
the desperate man, the king utilizes these henchmen 
to try to discover the mystery of Hamlet. But Hamlet 
is easily more than a match for them, as he was for 
Polonius, and they very soon find out that he is not 
open for inspection. They approach Hamlet just as 
Polonius is leaving, without having gained any informa- 



Hamlet 89 

tion, but not in time to hear Hamlet's remark, "These 
tedious old fools." They are received very cordially 
by Hamlet, and greeted by him as "My excellent good 
friends," in a way to shame them of their mission, if 
they had any shame in them. 

The fact that they were handed on to him by Polo- 
nius seems to put Hamlet on his guard. Almost at 
once he asks them what brought them hither, and 
when they cannot answer clearly he puts it to them 
more pointedly, "what make you at Elsinore.'^" Their 
evasive answer leads him to ask directly, "Were you 
not sent for?" and they confess they were. This ex- 
ceeding smallness of their characters leads him to try 
to shame them by his eloquent words on the greatness 
of man : "What a piece of work is man ! how noble in 
reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and moving, 
how express and admirable ! in action how like an angel ! 
in apprehension, how like a god ! the beauty of the 
world ! the paragon of animals !" (H. ii. 295-9.) They 
are not shamed and not warned, however, but like the 
simple pass on and are punished. 

These intimations that Hamlet is not unconscious 
of their mission do not dissuade them from further 
attempts. After the play, they try him once more, 
and again fail, this time ignominiously. They are not 
so wise and clever at dissembling as Polonius, and it 
does not take Hamlet long to turn the tables on them. 
Very stupidly they ask him directly, "What is the cause 
of your distemper .f^" When they admit they cannot 
play upon the pipe he offers them, he turns sharply on 
them, saying, "You would play upon me," and ends up 
by telling them, "Call me what instrument you will, 
though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me." 
(HI. ii. 354-5.) 



90 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

In spite of this complete exposure, they continue to 
act the part of traitors. Their last treachery is to 
assist in Hamlet's banishment to England, and but for 
his adroitness they would have been participants in 
his execution. They were such willing and unscrupu- 
lous agents of the king that Hamlet has no compunc- 
tions in turning their treachery upon themselves and 
contriving that they be "hoist with their own petar." 

There is no need to shed tears over these traitors. 
Though Hamlet was a very unwilling "scourge and 
minister" of heaven in the death of Polonius, he has no 
hesitation in preparing revenge upon these school-fel- 
lows. He wept bitter tears for killing Polonius, even 
though he recognized the justice of his death, but he 
did not weep over the fate of Rosencrantz and Guilden- 
stern. In \\e\\ of the baseness of their act and the 
great issues at stake for himself and his country, he 
recognizes the moral retribution of the end that over- 
takes them: 

"They are not near my conscience; their defeat 
Does bv their own insinuation grow." 

(V. ii. 58-59.) 

The baseness of these spies, Rosencrantz and Guild- 
enstern, as well as Polonius, serves to reveal further 
the desperate character of the king. He was ready to 
use every treachery against Hamlet, and would not stop 
before putting him to death. No doubt it was only the 
great popularity of Hamlet in Denmark and the fear 
that any treachery might be discovered that prevented 
him from committing another murder. His dealings 
with Hamlet, apart from the ghost's words and his own 
confession, make clear to us that he was quite capable 
of the murder of his brother. But his adroitness in 
covering up the traces of his villainy make Hamlet's 



Hamlet 91 

task very difficult. And the retribution that finally 
overtakes him is not more for the foul murder of his 
brother than for the new treachery of the duel. 

Hamlet and Ophelia. 

The relations of Hamlet and Ophelia, and the ap- 
parent cruelty of her casting-ofF, have been the subject 
of much discussion. Hamlet himself appears to have 
found it almost heartbreaking to discard her, and 
finally did so only when convinced that she was treach- 
erous and untruthful. Any condemnation or justifica- 
tion of Hamlet's conduct in this sad affair can be 
reached only by a very careful consideration of all the 
circumstances. 

There is much evidence in the play that Hamlet 
once loved Ophelia sincerely. The parting words of 
Laertes to his sister as he is about to return to Paris 
make it clear that Hamlet had long been known as 
her lover. (I. iii.) Hamlet's letter assured her of 
his unalterable love, and vowed that he loved her best. 
(H. ii.) In the scene in which Polonius and the king 
are concealed behind the arras, he told her ''I did love 
you once." (HI. i. 114-15.) And in the burial scene, 
over her dead body, he uttered the words, "I loved 
Ophelia," and went on to say that his love was more 
than that of forty thousand brothers. (V. i. 257-9.) 
Ophelia herself thought he loved her, and reported to 
her father that, "He hath, my lord, of late made many 
tenders of his affection to me." (I. iii. 99-100.) 

Other persons of the play also thought he loved her. 
The queen said mournfully at the funeral, "I hoped 
thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife." (V. i. 
232.) Laertes was at first doubtful of liis love for 
her but later admits, "Perhaps he loves you now." 



92 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

(I. iii. 14.) Polonius, too, had his doubts, and was 
convinced only by Hamlet's visit to Ophelia in which 
he appeared ungroomed and troubled in mind. (II. i.) 
Even the king seemed satisfied that Hamlet's love for 
Ophelia was genuine and honorable. 

At first, Laertes and Polonius were unwilling to be- 
lieve that Hamlet had honorable intentions toward 
Ophelia. Laertes was the first to warn his sister 
against Hamlet, and to suggest to her that Hamlet 
wished only to take advantage of her. And Polonius 
likewise warns her against him, saying that his vows 
are "But mere implorators of unholy suits." (I. iii. 
129.) He therefore instructs her to repel his letters 
and to deny him access to her. (11. i. 108-110.) 

The reason for this scepticism was that neither 
Laertes nor Polonius thought Hamlet, as a Prince, 
could marry the daughter of a chamberlain. Laertes 
assured his sister that Hamlet would not be free to 
choose a wife for himself, but would be "subject to 
his birth," and that his choice would be settled by the 
necessities of the state. (I. iii. 17-24.) Polonius at 
first did not deign to make this explanation to her 
when he warned her against Hamlet, but seems later 
to have reminded her that "Lord Hamlet is a prince, 
out of thy star." (11. ii. 140.) At first, then, 
Polonius said, "I fear'd he did but trifle" (IL i. 112), 
though later he appears to be convinced of the reality 
of Hamlet's love. 

In view of his love for her, Hamlet did not find it 
easy to give up Ophelia. Even to the last he loved 
her, though he found it impossible to marry her. For 
this, there appear to be two reasons. In the first place, 
he found love and marriage incompatible with his task 
of revenging his father. As soon as he received the 



Hamlet 93 

revelations of the ghost he realized that his task would 
require the renunciation of every other plan of life, 
and the abandonment of every other hope and ambition. 
He promised the ghost to "wipe away all trivial fond 
records," and assured the ghost that 

"thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'd with baser matter." 

(I. V. 109-4.) 

Hamlet may have thought that his great task would 
absorb all his energies, and tax all his powers, not 
leaving any opportunity for love and marriage; or he 
may have thought that in his hazardous adventure he 
would likely lose his life. In either case, love and mar- 
riage were not for him. 

It is quite likely, however, that there was also an- 
other reason as well. Hamlet seems to have been con- 
vinced that Ophelia did not now love him, whatever 
might have been the case in the past. When Ophelia 
remarked about the prologue to his play of The Mouse- 
trap that " ^Tis brief, my lord,'' he instantly retorted, 
doubtless thinking both of his mother and of her, "As 
woman's love." (HI. ii. 143-4.) Whether the cause of 
her ceasing to love him was fickleness or an inabiHty to 
appreciate the noble qualities of his nature, the fact 
seems to be that Hamlet felt she no longer loved him. 
It was a great grief to him, and he did not part with 
her without great sorrow. 

Hamlet, however, did not discard her until he found 
her treacherous and untruthful. Had Ophelia not 
given herself to her father's schemes against liim, he 
might have continued his affections, but when he was 
obliged to doubt her fidelity, there was nothing left for 
him but to cast her off. When he visited her, dishevelled 



94 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

and nervous, his purpose apparently was to pry into 
her very soul, and see if he could trust her. The doubts 
that came to him then were confirmed later when he 
found her playing the part of decoj^ for her father. 
This was the final and convincing evidence of her un- 
worthiness, and he never trusted her after. 

Hamlet's behavior toward Ophelia was no doubt 
cruel, as all such affairs are cruel; but as with his 
mother later he was cruel only to be kind. It should 
be recalled that at the time of his parting interview 
with her Hamlet was very greatly burdened in spirit. 
He had just spoken his great soliloquy, and had de- 
bated with himself the question of pursuing his revenge 
even at the cost of his life. With this load upon his 
spirit he must have felt her treachery very keenly. 
Her assumption of the part of injured innocence while 
all the time she knew that her father and the king were 
listening to every word of Hamlet, and then her false- 
hood when asked about her father, surely revealed her 
unworthy of the noble Hamlet. It was only then that 
he suggested she should never marry by saying, "Get 
thee to a nunnery." 

There is no evidence in the play that Ophelia her- 
self actively took part against Hamlet, but only that 
she accepted the position of decoy for her father's craft 
and cunning. Her very weakness, however, was itself 
an enemy to Hamlet's welfare, and he had to leave her. 
But he felt her faithlessness very k^eenly. It was not, 
however, the fault of Hamlet that Ophelia's mind be- 
came distracted. The prime cause of her misfortune 
was rather the suspicions and the treachery of her 
father and the king, whose innocent victim she was. 

But Hamlet never forgot his love for "the fair 
Ophelia.'' At the play, when his mother asked him to 



Hamlet 95 

sit by her, he lay down at Ophelia's feet instead, say- 
ing, "No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.'' 
(III. ii. 103.) Ophelia still had some power over him, 
and he continued near her throughout the play. Then 
when he found himself at last unwittingly at her funer- 
al, his old love returned and led him to vie with Laer- 
tes in the expression of grief and he says : 

"I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers 
Could not, with all their quantity of love. 
Make up my sum." 

(V. i. 957-259.) 

It is apparent, then, that though he had cast her off, 
he never ceased to love her. In her death he pitied her, 
but he could never scorn her. 

The Opportunity of the Players. 

In spite of all his efforts and his "antic disposition," 
Hamlet had not secured any objective evidence that 
the king was guilty of his father's murder, and he still 
hesitated to execute the injunctions of the ghost. The 
first event that afforded him a real opportunity, how- 
ever, was the bringing of the players to court, pre- 
sumably to divert him from his melancholy. His quick 
wit instantly seized upon the occasion given him to turn 
them to his own account. He welcomes the actors, and 
recognizes the first player as an old friend, and expects 
that he will lend himself to his ends. Then he tries out 
the first player, and after satisfying himself of their 
ability, he arranges for them to enact a play that he 
calls The Murder of Gonzago. He wants them to have 
it ready, as he says, by "to-morrow night." 

Hamlet seems greatly pleased at this opportunity. 
It furnishes him with just the kind of opening he has 



96 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

awaited, and Hamlet the inactive becomes henceforth 
Hamlet the valiant. His refraining from killing the 
king at sight is now seen, for the first time clearly, to 
be part of a more comprehensive and far-reaching 
scheme. He instantly grasps the possibilities of this 
opportunity, and his evident delight is observed by 
those about him. In reporting the incident to the 
queen later, Rosencrantz said, "there did seem in him 
a kind of joy To hear of it." (HI. i. 18-19.) 

At first Hamlet does not report his plans even to 
Horatio, and we learn them only from his soliloquy: 

"I'll have these players 
Play something like the murder of my father 
Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks; 
I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench, 
I know my course." 

(II. ii. 570-4.) 
i 
In this soliloquy he discloses his mind for the first time. 
He has hesitated to kill the king on the sole evidence 
of the ghost, for "the spirit that I have seen May be 
the devil." He has, therefore, waited for additional 
evidence : 

"I'll have grounds 
More relative than this. The play's the thing 
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king." 

(II. ii. 579-581.) 

Hamlefs Advice to the Players. 

In order that his schemes may not miscarry, Hamlet 
coaches the players very carefully until he gets them 
in condition to render his play in a fitting manner be- 
fore the king. He first instructs them in enunciation, 
telling them to "Speak the speech, I pray you, as 
I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue." 



Hamlet 97 

(III. 11. 1-2.) Then he warns them against violent ges- 
ticulations, saying, "Nor do not saw the air too much 
with your hands, thus; but use all gently." (4-5.) He 
exhorts them to temperance in the expression of pas- 
sion, without, however, falling short of due intensity, 
urging, "Be not too tame neither, but . . . suit the 
action to the word, the word to the action; with this 
special observance: that you o'erstep not the modesty 
of nature." (15-18.) He reminds them that the one 
rule of acting is "to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to 
nature." (20-1.) The purpose of it all is, he says, 
"to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, 
and the very age and body of the time his form and 
pressure." (21-3). He closes his advice by words 
meant to restrain the activities of the clowns, and keep 
them in their proper places. 

This advice to the players shows the high artistic 
ideals Hamlet, and Shakespeare, entertained for the 
drama. It is to retain its previous high character, and 
is not to be a mere form of amusement either for the 
groundlings or the better class. It is to keep, too, a 
very distinct ethical function, and to serve as a means 
of instructing the people in morals. Acting is to be 
sincere, and the methods of the drama at once realistic 
and idealistic. The times should be mirrored on the 
stage, and yet the whole spirit should be that of high 
moral idealism. No reference is made to the dramatic 
controversies of the day, but the entire purport of the 
advice implies that the dramatist has in mind the 
romantic drama, with its union of comedy and tragedy, 
and with its indifference to all "unities" except that 
of action. The noble words of the advice indicate 
further the dramatist's intention to endow Hamlet with 
the highest intellectual and moral character. 



98 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

The Play— "The Mouse-trap:' 

The success of Hamlet's little play before the king 
exceeded his wildest expectations. Horatio and Ham- 
let carefully watched the king, while seemingly pre- 
occupied in conversation with the queen and Ophelia. 
The sight of the dumb-show and of the two chief actors 
as king and queen makes the king uneasy, lest there 
should be some offence in it. But Hamlet assures him, 
ironically, that "they do but jest, poison in jest; no 
offence i' the world." When asked the name of his 
play, he says it is called, figuratively. The Mouse-trap, 
and then gives an outline of the argument. The play, 
however, proves the undoing of the king, for when he 
witnesses the poisoning he can endure it no longer and 
rises and goes out. His guilt is now manifest, as well 
as the innocence of the queen. She sees no significance 
in the performance, beyond the play itself, but the king 
is caught in Hamlet's mouse-trap. 

During the performance of the play Hamlet reveals 
by his excitement the great strain under which he has 
been living. His anxiety to entrap the king and to 
observe the least trace of guilt in him as the player 
king is poisoned leads him beyond the bounds of tact 
and of discretion. His eagerness to explain the play, 
and to assure the king that there is no offence in it, 
together with his comments as the play proceeds, and 
especially during the poisoning scene, must have con- 
vinced the king that Hamlet was consciously trying to 
entrap him. But so excited was Hamlet that for once 
he failed in tactfulness. From this time the king was 
convinced that Hamlet was dangerous, and made all 
haste to despatch him to England. 

With the complete and unmistakable proof of the 



Hamlet 99 

king's guilt afforded by the play, Hamlet's delight be- 
comes uncontrollable. He breaks into popular ditties 
as soon as he is alone with Horatio, and is so well 
satisfied that he exclaims jubilantly, "I'll take the 
ghost's word for a thousand pound." (HI. ii. 274-5.) 
All doubt is now removed, and he is prepared to enter 
actively upon his task of revenge. This marks another 
Hamlet "transformation," and from this time he shows 
a more merry spirit, as Ophelia observes at the play. 
But the king is now equally alive to the issue, and 
Hamlet has to encounter equally active opposition. 
Almost single-handed he has to challenge the king with 
his host of hirelings, and with all the power and pre- 
rogatives of a ruler at his command. 

There has been a good deal of discussion about Ham- 
let's little play. It is apparent from Hamlet's inten- 
tion of adding to the play "a speech of some dozen 
or sixteen lines" that it did not altogether suffice as it 
stood. Diligent search has been made for these addi- 
tional lines in his play of Gonzago, but they have not 
been identified. It has been recently suggested that 
these lines cannot be identified, because, instead of 
adding to the play he had, Hamlet found it necessary 
to write an entire new play that would come closer 
to the circumstances of his father's murder. By this 
means he was able to depict accurately what the ghost 
had told, and make a certain test of its truth. The 
entire success of his play proved beyond doubt that the 
ghost had been a good spirit and had told him the 
truth.^ 

* Cf. Trench, Shakespeare's Hamlet, a New Commentary, pp. 
108-9, 117-194, 155-160, and Appendix C, pp. 260-6. London: 
Smith, Elder & Co., 1913. 



100 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 



The King at Prayer. 

Hamlet has now obtained corroboration of the 
ghost's accusation of the king. He is no longel* in 
any doubt about it himself. His reluctance to kill the 
king should now all vanish, if he were waiting only for 
confirmation of the king's guilt. The Werder theory, 
then, finds support in its contention that he has still 
not gained all the evidence he requires, for even this 
is not objective evidence and would not satisfy public 
opinion. The evidence he has obtained serves to con- 
vince him and Horatio, but would not be accepted as 
conclusive in a court of law or before the public. Ham- 
let, however, has lost all his moral reluctance, and 
henceforth is ready to revenge his father when the op- 
portunity comes. 

The play has served to prick the king's conscience, 
and in his soliloquy now for the first time he acknowl- 
edges his guilt, and displays considerable remorse: 

"Oh, my oifence is rank, it smells to heaven; 
It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, 
A brother's murder!" 

(III. iii. 36-38.) 

But he cannot pray, for he is not willing to acknowl- 
edge his crime : "May one be pardon'd and retain the 
offence?" Yet he is constrained to kneel, thinking 
there may be some virtue in that act, hoping he may 
be led to repentance and confession. This is the point 
to which Hamlet apparently wanted to lead him, but 
he does not repent and cannot pray. Never again 
docs he come so near to the throne of grace, but he 
passes on unforgiven. 



Hamlet 101 

To find the king thus alone seemed also to be Ham- 
let's long-looked-for opportunity. But once more he 
withholds his dagger, and instead falls into his habit of 
philosophy. He recognizes that he has his chance, 
saying : 

"Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; 
And now I'll do't; and so he goes to heaven; 
And so am I revenged." 

(III. iii. 73-5.) 

But for some reason the conditions do not suit him, and 
he refrains, saying, "this is hire and salary, not re- 
venge." He thinks the king would go to heaven from 
his prayers, and so he prefers to kill him some time 
when he finds him drunk or in some other sin, "that his 
soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it 
goes." 

This, however, has seemed to most critics entirely 
out of accord with the acknowledged moral character 
of Hamlet. It seems brutal and barbaric, not human 
or Christian. It has, therefore, been suggested that 
this passage is not Shakespeare's, but a relic of the 
old play that Shakespeare has failed to work out of 
his play, or has for some unaccountable reason over- 
looked. Others suggest that it is only another excuse 
Hamlet makes to himself for further procrastination, 
and is intended to deceive no one but himself. Richard- 
son suggests that he merely offers this motive as "one 
better suited to the opinions of the multitude," and 
that he was withheld "by the scruples, and perhaps 
weakness, of extreme sensibility." ^ But none of these 
seem adequate explanations, for they are too con- 
jectural, and have too little basis in the play itself. 

The words of the play leave it by no means certain 

* Essays on Some of Shakespeare's Dramatic Characters, 5th 
edition, 'l798, p. 133. 



IQC HamUi, am Idral Prince 

that Hamlet wants to see the king consigned to eternal 
damnation for the murder. It needs to be recalled 
that in the teachings of the church and in the popular 
thought hell was but the place of the dead, and might 
mean either perdition or purgatory. It is more than 
likelv, therefore, that Hamlet desired only that the 
king's soul might go to purgatory and not to heaven. 
He wanted him not to go to perdition, but to the place 
of purification, for he was altogether unfit for heaver 
This conception is borne out by the German play 
where "hell"' undoubtedly means only purgatory 
Hamlet there says when he kills the king: "But this 
tvrant-, I hope he may wash off his black sins in heU." ^ 
It may be an expression of the same idea in Marlowe*s 
Fau4fu^. where Benvolio savs as he stabs Faustus 
-HeU take thy soul.*' = 

There is a further reason for Hamlet's self-restraint. 
It is likely that Hamlet regarded the king^s prayer as 
giving him the right of "•sanctuary/- which Hamlet 
as a pious man would not violate. The stage directions 
in Shakespeare are very meagre, and say only that the 
king ""Retires and kneels.'^ There is no reference to 
any altar or chapel, as if the king had entered the 
temple to pray. But the German play has fuller 
stage directions, and under Act III., Scene I., in which 
the account of this incident is given, there are the direc- 
tions: "Here is presented an Altar in a Temple.'' At 
the close of his self-accusation the directions are: ^TThe 
King kneels before the altar.'' * 

Here, then, is probably the true explanation. Ham- 
let does not want to violate the sanctuary in killing the 

^ Eng. trans, in Fnmess, II. p. 14:?. 

» Marlowe's Doctor Fam^trnji, Temple edition. Scene XIII, 41. 

» Eng. trans, in Fometss, II, p. IS9. 



Hamlet 103 

king, and thus bring sin upon himself. And he does 
not want the king to go straight to heaven, as he might 
if killed at his prayers. Hamlet wants to make sure 
that he will go to purgatory, where he will be punished 
for his crime, but where also, as the German play says, 
"he may wash off his black sins in hell." 

This desire not to desecrate the holy altar is in 
perfect keeping with the moral and pious spirit of 
Hamlet. To revenge his father's murder is a filial 
duty to which he is ready to sacrifice his own life. But 
he is not to taint his own mind by doing a greater 
wrong. He will, therefore, not commit an impiety even 
in the discharge of so solemn a duty. 

In contrast with this nobleness, however, stand the 
king and Laertes. When the king has incited Laertes 
against Hamlet, he feels so vengeful that he says he 
is even ready "To cut his throat i' the church." The 
king instantly agrees with this infamy, by saying: 

"No place indeed should murder sanctuarize; 
Revenge should have no bounds." 

(IV. vii. 128-9.) 

Hamlet and His Mother, 

Before sending Hamlet to England one more attempt 
is made to solve the mystery of his strange behavior. 
He is now recognized as a troublesome and dangerous 
character, and the king sees in him a direct challenge 
to his own position. With the failure of the king and 
his spies to bring Hamlet to time, Polonius arranges 
that he shall be interviewed by his mother. The old 
steward tells the queen to use her influence with him, 
and advises her to "lay home to him," and to "Tell 
him his pranks have been too broad to bear with." (HI. 
IV. 1-2.) 



lOi HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

From the beginning, however, it is the queen who is 
interviewed by Hamlet. His finer moral sense has been 
shocked by his mother's conduct, and he takes her to 
task with as much severity as becomes a son. In his 
remonstrance against her marriage with the king he 
"speaks daggers but uses none." His powerful 
spirit upbraids and convicts her of her sins, and she 
tries to escape from him. But his strong will compels 
her to listen, and he says : 

"Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; 
You go not till I set you up a glass 
Where you mav see the inmost part of you." 

(III. iv. 18-20) 

In the heat of the conference he discovers some one 
eavesdropping, and thinking it the king, makes a pass 
through the arras, only to find he has killed old Polo- 
nius. The old man has at last suffered the penalty of 
his intrigue and of his devotion to the king's nefarious 
schemes. It was no part of Hamlet's plan, however, 
and he afterwards grieved bitterly at the fatal mistake 
of his impetuosity. But the provocation was very 
great, and for the moment his hand got the better of 
his judgment. It would have been equally a mistake, 
however, had it been as he thought the king. The time 
was not yet ripe for the execution of the king, as he 
had not yet secured the objective evidence. But he was 
morally certain of the king's guilt and could not stay 
his hand. 

During his interview with his mother the ghost ap- 
pears to Hamlet for the last time. He has been delay- 
ing, and, it seems to the ghost, neglecting his task of 
revenge. He comes, therefore, as he says, "to whet 
thy almost blunted purpose." Though tardy, Hamlet 
has not forgotten his duty. He has only held back 



Hamlet 105 

for the time to be ripe, and to gain the necessary evi- 
dence. He has been trying to obey all the injunctions 
of the ghost, and has been endeavoring to carry out 
the revenge without tainting his own mind or harming 
his mother. There is now some evidence that his 
mother's interests and his consideration for her have 
done much to restrain him. 

The ghost is manifestly invisible to the queen, and 
she regards Hamlet as mad when he addresses the 
apparition. She sees him bend his "eye on vacancy," 
and thinks him in some grave distemper. Bewildered 
to see him looking into what is to her only empty space, 
and yet apparently seeing some object, she asks him, 
"Whereon do you look.^" and Hamlet replies, "On him, 
on him." Looking upon the pitiful ghost of his father 
deeply stirs the spirit of Hamlet, and makes him equal 
to the great revenge. But turning once more to his 
mother he finds her looking piteously on him instead 
of the ghost, and apparently thinking him distracted. 
The sight of the distressed look of his mother, and 
the thought of the ghost's command not to harm her, 
once more take from him his strong resolve, and he 
feels more like weeping for his mother than revenging 
his father. His love for his mother and his desire to 
save her take the sternness out of his resolve, and he 
is more disposed to shed tears than blood. He, there- 
fore, begs her: 

"Do not look upon me. 
Lest with this piteous action you convert 
My stern eifects; then what I have to do 
Will want true color ! tears perchance for blood." ^ 

(III. iv. 127-130.) 

It is important, therefore, to notice that Hamlet's love 
for his mother and concern for her honor, together with 
^ (7/. Note C, pp. 295-8, infra. 



106 HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

the injunction of the ghost, acted as a great restraint 
upon his pursuit of revenge. There was great danger 
that in striking the king he should also strike his 
mother. And his hand was therefore stayed till he 
could find an opportunity to strike without harming 
her. 

In respect to his mother, Hamlet's desire was that 
she should cut herself loose from the king. His moral 
nature is shown in his desire to have her quit the dis- 
honorable relationship with the king, and live a virtuous 
life. The whole purport of his interview with her was 
to rouse her to a recognition of the immorality of her 
present life. The visit of the ghost offers the occa- 
sion for speaking even more plainly to her, and he 
beseeches her: 

"Confess yourself to heaven; 
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come." 
(III. iv. 149-150.) 

But the queen was obdurate. She could be made to 
see *'black and grained spots" upon her soul, but she 
would not relinquish her evil life. Hamlet's words might 
cleave her heart in twain, but she would not take his 
advice to 

"throw away the worser part of it. 
And live the purer with the other half." 
(III. iv. 157-8.) 



All he could do, then, was to warn his mother, on peril 
of breaking her own neck, not to tell the king that he 
is only ''mad in craft." 

Then he recalls to her that lie is to be sent to Eng- 
land, in charge of his old school-fellows, Rosencrantz 



Hamlet 107 

and Guildenstern, and he ventures the prophecy that 
these false friends will be "hoist by their own petar." 
Hamlet seems fully aware of his own superior ability 
of mind, and believes that even with adverse circum- 
stances he can still manage to turn the course of events 
to his own advantage. It is only by the rapid com- 
bination of untoward conditions after the killing of 
Polonius that he is finally overthrown, though even 
then he wins the moral victory. 

Though Hamlet has not been able to persuade his 
mother to give up her sinful life, she, nevertheless, re- 
tains her love for her son. A side glimpse of her is 
given in the next scene in which she displays consider- 
able excellence of character, and love for Hamlet. The 
king finds her where Hamlet had just left her after 
the interview, and he asks, "Where is your son.'^" She 
is obliged to make known the death of Polonius, but 
she tries to shield Hamlet from her husband by urging 
that he is "mad as the sea and wind," and that he had 
killed Polonius by mistaking him for a rat behind the 
arras. Guarding the secret of his feigned madness, 
she further pleads for him by saying that now "He 
weeps for what is done." (IV. i. 27.) Her evasions, 
however, do not save her son from the ever-deepening 
suspicions of the king, who now calls him "dangerous," 
and finds a better excuse to banish him. 

HamleVs Banishment. 

Very gladly would the king dispatch Hamlet by less 
subtle means than he had used to dispatch his father. 
But Hamlet's great popularity forbids the king at- 
tempting any outer violence. Pie is forced to acknowl- 
edge that the people love Hamlet, though the thought 
is very distasteful to him: 



108 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

''Yet must not we put the strong law on him; 
He's loved of the distracted multitude, 
AVho like not in their judsrment, but their eyes." 

(IV. iii. 3-5.) 

The king now sees that something desperate must 
be done with Hamlet or he will fall victim to him. It 
is very apparent that he at any rate does not labor 
under the idea that Hamlet is incapable of action. He 
is, on the contrary, so fearful of his ability to act and 
to act quickly, that he prepares to send him to Eng- 
land at once. He makes the excuse that it is for 
Hamlet's own safety, and announces to him: 

**Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, 

must send thee hence 

AVith fiery quickness." 

(IV. iii. 39-42.) 

Hamlet is, therefore, sent at once to England, then 

a tributary country to Denmark. Claudius gives orders 

to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern not to wait till the 

next day, but to take him at once: "Delay it not; I'll 

have him hence to-night." (IV. iii. 54.) The king 

likewise sends orders for the death of Hamlet, and 

he thinks that the recollection of recent chastisement 

by Denmark will induce the king of England to execute 

his orders. Claudius is now thoroughly alarmed at 

the possible danger from Hamlet, and therefore orders 

the kin£r of Enriand to put him to immediate death: 

"Do it, England; 
For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
And thou must cure me; till I know 'tis done, 
Howe'er my haps, my jovs were ne'er begun." 

(IV. iii. 64-67.) 

Fortinbras Once More. 

Just before the embarkation, the presence of Fortin- 
bras hovers once more over the stage, apparently as a 



Hamlet 109 

temptation and suggestion to Hamlet. On this occa- 
sion he is using his license from Claudius to march 
across Denmark on his way to Poland. He had sent 
this message to Claudius, by one of his captains : 

"Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; 
Tell him that by his license Fortinbras 
Claims the conveyance of a promised march 
Over his kingdom." 

(IV. iv. 1-4.) 

The king had succeeded in warding off the imminent 
attack of Fortinbras upon Denmark at the opening 
of the play by a direct, but humiliating, appeal to the 
old uncle of the prince. At that time the ambassadors 
from Claudius to the old king of Norway brought back 
the very welcome word that Fortinbras had been 
restrained from his intended revolt and invasion of 
Denmark. The interpretation of the matter offered 
by Horatio in the first scene of the play was confirmed 
by the report of the ambassadors. The old king 
had been led to believe that Fortinbras intended his 
army for a campaign "against the Polack," but was 
grieved to find that it was really against Denmark. 
Wherefore, he had suppressed his nephew's levies, and 
rebuked the young man, who now 

"Makes vow before his uncle never more 
To give the assay of arms against your majesty." 

(II. ii. 70-1.) 

At this the king of Norway was much pleased, and gave 
Fortinbras 

"commission to employ those soldiers, 
So levied as before, against the Polack;" 

(II. ii. 74-5.) 



110 HaviUi. an Idfol Prince 

and requests Claudius, 

**That it might please you to give quiet pass 
Through your dominioos for this enterprise** 

(II. ii. 77-8.) 

Fortinbras, therefore, in prosecuting his march through 

Danish territory against the Polack is only ayailing 
himself of a priyilege preyiously granted by Claudius. 

The juncture of Fortinbras's march across Denmark 
with Hamlet's banishment to England was no doubt 
intended by the dramatist as an opportunity for 
Hamlet, had he been so minded. It is yery likely that 
had Hamlet seized the occasion he could haye enlisted 
Fortinbras in a common attack on Claudius. The 
ease with which Laertes later raised a rebellion against 
the king would suggest that one with Hamlet's popu- 
larity and the prestige of his princely character could 
very readily haye raised an army to join with Fortin- 
bras. Hamlet could well afford to promise Fortinbras 
the return of his forfeited lands when they had jointly 
deposed Claudius. But all this temptation Hamlet 
steadfastly resists. 

Instead of making common cause with Fortinbras, 
Hamlet steadfastly maintains his way of pyeace. The 
readiness of Fortinbras for war stands in yery striking 
contrast to the peaceable ways of Hamlet, and is doubt- 
less intended by the dramatist to bring out Hamlet's 
character. Shakespeare was a hater of war and a 
loyer of peace, and he therefore portrays in his great- 
est character the heroism of peace. But the coming 
of Fortinbras was surely meant as Hamlet's tempta- 
tion. He declines, howeyer, to bring about a ciyil war. 
that would mean the sacrifice of many innocent persons 
and the rending of the kingdom, though he does not set 



Hamlet 111 

his own life at a pin's fee. Hamlet, however, only takes 
the coming as an inspiration to follow up more 
earnestly his own appointed task of revenging his 
father's murder. If Fortinbras, for so trifling a cause, 
and with so little provocation, could lead an army to 
Poland, surely he in his own great and just cause, 
should be more active: 

"Oh, from this time forth. 
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!" 

(IV. iv. Q6-Q.) 

His cause, however, is peace, not war, and he must 
revenge the murder and put in joint the broken times 
without doing more harm than he is charged to remedy. 
His task is to save his people, not to destroy them. 

Laertes and the King. 

Upon his return from Paris, Laertes learns of the 
death of his father, and charging it against the king, 
raises a small revolt against him, and enters his pres- 
ence to work his revenge. He has succeeded in gather- 
ing a considerable following and they evince their faith 
in him by asking that he be made king. The attend- 
ant reports to Claudius that the people cry: 

" 'Laertes shall be king !' 
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, 
*Laertes shall be king, Laertes king !' " 

(IV. V. 102-4.) 

The king has some trouble in pacifying him, and ex- 
plains that it was not he that had killed his father, 
saying, "I am guiltless of your father's death." 
Laertes is finally pacified by the king's avowal 
of his innocence, and by his suggestion to arbitrate 
their differences. 



112 Hawdtt, am Ideal Prince 

Before Laertes can fufly adjust his suspicions of 
the king, he is all bat distracted at seeing his sister 
enter, singing incoherent songs in her madness, and not 
even recognizing him. The sorrow of Ophelia's disap- 
pointment has borne Terv heavily upon her, and her 
mind has become distracted- The poor, weak, inno- 
cent girl, in trying to be a dutiful daughter had become 
an untrustworthy lover, and now she is out of her mind. 
Hamlet's behavior toward her was doubtless serere, 
but anything else would have been unjust. Though 
disappointed and distracted* her suffering is lessened 
by the thought that it is her lover who is **Xake sweet 
bells jangled out of tune and harsh." 

Hamdtt and Laertes. 

Meanwhile Horatio has had a letter, and the king 
a note, from Hamlet, saying that he has returned to 
Denmark. It is only in the last act of the play, 
however, that we learn the whole story, when Hamlet 
finds time and occasion to narrate it carefully to Hora- 
tio. It seems that the ship conveying him to England 
was attacked by pirates, and that in the fight he 
boarded them, and later induced them to set him ashore 
in Denmark, leaving Rosencrantz and Guildenstem to 
continue their voyage to England. He expects that 
the report of what happened to them wiD soon reach 
Denmark and cause him further trouble with the king: 
and he therefore feels the necessity of great haste i: 
he is to forestall the king and carry out his plans. 

With the return of Hamlet to Denmark, Laertes 
soon learns that it was Hamlet and not the king who 
had killed his father. The king eagerly seizes the op- 
portunity to transfer the quarrel to Hamlet, and very 
skillfully arranges a duel between the two to settle their . 



Hamlet 113 

grievances. If it be the duty of Hamlet to avenge the 
death of his father, it is scarcely less the duty of 
Laertes to avenge the death of Polonius. The king 
whets the wrath of Laertes by telling him that Hamlet 
is very dangerous, for 

"he which hath your noble father slain 
Pursued my life." 

(IV. vii. 4-5.) 

This incenses Laertes the more, and makes him very 
willing to attack Hamlet. He accepts with eagerness 
the king's suggestion of a duel with Hamlet, and like 
his father he is not unwilling to use foul means. The 
entire Polonius family seem not to be above treachery 
and deceit. 



VI 

Hamlet's Return, 

Hamlet's return at the time of Laertes's little revolt 
leaves the impression that Denmark was now ripe for a 
rebellion. If we are to take the words of the king, no 
one in the kingdom was so well beloved as Hamlet, and 
hence no one so likely to be successful in rebellion. But 
casting aside this temptation, he presents himself first 
in the churchyard, where he discourses wisdom to Ho- 
ratio and the grave-diggers. Possibly he went there 
to mourn over his father's grave, and to sorrow over 
that of Polonius, for he is in the vicinity of the latter 
when the burial party arrives. Hamlet is shocked to 
find himself present at the funeral of "the fair Ophelia," 
and to notice that they are burying her with "maimed 
rites," because, as he hears the priest say, "Her 
death was doubtful." These things had been told him 
by the grave-digger, but he had not suspected they 



114 HamUty an Id^ol Prince 

referred to Oplu lia. When tlie body is lowered into the 
grave, Laertes in the ecstasy of his grief leaps in to 
express his lasting love for his sister. Then Hamlet, 
feeling that his love for her is greater than that of 
forty thousand brothers, also leaps into the grave to 
show his affection. I^aertes, liowever, has been in- 
censed against Hamlet by the king, and, not taking his 
act as friendly, grapples with him. The quick passion 
of the prince responds, and the two have to be sep- 
arated by attendants. For this impetuosity Hamlet 
suffered deeply, as he afterwards explains to Horatio, 
saying: 

"I am very sorry, good Horatio, 

That to Laertes I forgot myself; . . . 

But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 

Into a towering passion." 

(V. ii. 75-80.) 

He evidently bore no ill-will to Laertes, and still loved 
Ophelia. But the incident shows his tremendous capa- 
bilities of instant action, and goes to disprove any 
theory that assumes in him any weakness, mental or 
volitional. 

The Dml — Hamlet and Laertes. 

When they met for the duel, Hamlet made haste to 

assure Laertes of his love and good-will by offering 

ample apology for his impetuosity at the grave of 

Ophelia. His first words were an apology, probably 

not only for his behavior at Ophelia's grave, but also 

for his part in her death and in that of Polonius: 

*'Give me your pardon, sir; Tve done you wrong; 
But pardon't. ;is \o\i .in* a lientleman." 

(V. ii. 913-4.) 

Then he explains that he was suffering from much dis- 
traction, and that if he had wronged Laertes he could 



Hamlet 115 

not have been in his proper senses, and disclaims any 
purposed evil. He then begs him in the most cordial 
manner to 

"Free me so far in your most generous thoughts. 
That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house. 
And hurt my brother." 

(V. ii. 229-231.) 

Laertes, however, refuses all reconcilement, and the 
incident but adds fuel to his burning wrath. He has 
been so misled and incited by the king whose perfidy 
had suggested the duel that he will accept no explana- 
tion. He gives further evidence of baseness and treach- 
ery in his willingness to accept the king's suggestion of 
poisoning his sword. (IV. vii. 135-140.) But the 
fates are against Hamlet. His "towering passion," 
growing out of the very intensity of his purpose, has 
twice led him into mistakes, and both times with the 
Polonius family, — first with the father, and next with 
the son. 

Though morally justified in both cases, Hamlet 
scarcely excused himself, for he had no will to perform 
the part of the "scourge and minister" of heaven. 
Hamlet, however, does not have to wait long for his 
vindication. When in the duel both contestants are 
mortally wounded by the poisoned rapiers, Laertes at 
once admits his guilt, and cries out: "I am justly 
kill'd with mine own treacliery." (V. ii. 294.) Then, 
with his dying breath he reveals the king's part in the 
treacherous deed, and begs piteously, 

"Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet." 

(V. ii. 316.) 

In these last words he bears full testimony to the purity 
and unselfishness of Hamlet's life, and absolves him 
from all blame: 



116 Hamlety an Ideal Prinze 

"Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, 
Nor thine on me!" 

(V. ii. 317-8.) 

The Unmasking of the King. 

It was only in the duel that the wicked and perfidious 
character of the king was revealed, and his diabolical 
schemes fully unmasked. Laertes was the first after 
Hamlet and Horatio to recognize the real character of 
Claudius. As soon as he is wounded by Hamlet with 
his own exchanged rapier, there is at once disclosed 
before him the entire course of events. At first he 
blames himself for his part, and for his treachery, say- 
ing that he has only been caught in his own trap, and 
that he is "justly kilPd." Then as soon as it is appar- 
ent b}^ the death of the queen from drinking the wine, 
he is doubly sure of the king's guilt for the whole affair, 
and says boldly, 'Hhe king's to blame." When the 
king dies, Laertes realizes it as a just punishment 

and saj's: 

"He is justly served; 
It is a poison tempered by himself." 
(V. ii. 314-5.) 

The cry of treason raised by the attendants when 
Hamlet stabs the king is at once silenced by the words 
of Laertes justifying Hamlet's course. Not another 
word is uttered in the remainder of the play in the 
king's behalf. It took onl}' a word from Laertes to 
unmask the character of Claudius, and to put his at- 
tendants and followers to complete silence. There 
seems to be no one left who has a good word to say on 
his behalf, and the treachery and perfidy of his life 
are fully accepted. 

Nevertheless, there has been revealed no objective 
proof of the king's guilt for the murder of his brother. 



Hamlet 117 

Hamlet has long been convinced of the truth of the 
ghost's words, though he has not secured any evidence 
except that from the ghost and from the undoubted 
certainty of the moral baseness of Claudius as revealed 
chiefly in his arrangement and management of the 
duel with Laertes. The cups of poisoned wine, intended 
for Hamlet, one of which caused the death of the queen, 
were evidence enough of his unscrupulous nature. His 
corrupt and immoral character was proven beyond any 
doubt, though with his death he carried away all traces 
of the objective evidence that Hamlet had wanted for 
the murder of his father. The death that seized him 
was accepted as a just retribution for his crimes, and 
for the baseness of his character, and he died under 
the unanimous condemnation of all the persons of the 
drama. 

Harrdefs Purposes — Horatio. 

The life task of Hamlet, imposed on him by the ghost, 

is fulfilled even in his death. The death of the king 

leaves him with only one dying wish, that his purposes 

may be explained to the people, lest he should be left 

with 

"a wounded name, 
Things standing thus unknown." 

(V. ii. 331-3.) 

This dying request, then, he leaves with his one tried 
and true friend, Horatio, begging him to show the peo- 
ple the reason of his conduct: 

"report me and my cause aright 
To the unsatisfied." 

(V. ii. 336-7.) 

Horatio, however, is unwilling to live after Hamlet 
has died, and, saying he is more like an antique Roman 



118 Hamlet. </;? Ural Prinve 

than a Dano, ho trios to drink tho poisonod wine. His 
friendship for Hamlet is so strong that he wants to 
die witli liini. Rut Hamlet seizes the cup, and restrains 
him, Ix^o^oring hiin to live and devote his life to a vindi- 
cation of Hamlet's course. With the earnestness born 
of a conviction that his cause was just, and his devotion 
to his task unsoltish, he beseeches Horatio: 

"If thou didst ever liold mo in thy heart. 
Absent thee from felieity awhile. 
And in tliis harsli world draw thy breath in pain. 
To tell niv storv." 

(V. ii. 333-6.) 

The friendship of Hamlet and Horatio is one of the 
finest in literature. Without fully understanding his 
plans until afterward, Horatio trusted Hamlet and was 
true to him. Ho seemed to understand him when no 
one else did. Ho was his true friend in life and in 
death, and after he is gone ho speaks on Whalf of his 
fair name. Horatio had tho fine moral character to 
appreciate tho noble purposes and splendid life of 
Hamlet, devoted as it was to his filial and patriotic 
duty, and whose life purposes needed only to be known 
to be approved. Horatio accepts the task of reporting 
him aright, and disclosing the secrets that could only 
be revealed after his death. As Hamlet breathes his 
last, ho corroborates his words, and bears eloquent tes- 
timony to tho uprightness and nobility of his friend: 

"Xow eraeks a noble heart. — Good night, sweet prince, 
And tiights o{ angels sing thee to thv rest !" 

(V. ii. 346-7.) 

Forfinhras as Xcxt King, 

Hamlet lived and died solely for Denmark. He did 
not regard his own life, but always thought of the 



Hamlet 119 

good of his country. As he is pleading with Horatio 
to explain his cause to the people, the announcement 
is made of the approach of young Fortinbras on his 
return from Poland. Once more, then, and as the last 
actor in the drama, this young warrior is brought upon 
the stage. He is very different in character from his 
cousin Hamlet, and is the type of self-regarding ambi- 
tion, who is willing to make war and lose thousands of 
men in order to gain territory that adds to him nothing 
but a name. He is not, however, of the criminal type 
of Claudius, but possesses many barbaric virtues. As a 
cousin of Hamlet's, though much less excellent, he is 
now the nearest to the throne and recognizes some 
rights in the kingdom. 

With his dying words, then, Hamlet speaks on behalf 
of Fortinbras. Apparently he wants the succession 
settled that the country may go forward in peace. In 
order to secure this, then, he gives his voice for the 
election, saying, "I do prophesy the election lights On 
Fortinbras." (V. ii. 342-3.) On his part Fortinbras 
accepts the advantage his kinship and the voice of Ham- 
let give him, saying, "with sorrow I embrace my for- 
tune.'' Horatio, sharing in the peaceable spirit of 
Hamlet, and fearing a possible disturbance, urges the 
immediate accession, "lest more mischance. On plots 
and errors happen." Fortinbras then accepts the king- 
dom, and closes the play by pronouncing a brief but 
noble panegyric over the body of Hamlet : 

"Let four captains 
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; 
For he was likely, had he been put on. 
To have proved most royally; and, for his passage, 
The soldiers' music and the rites of war 
Speak loudly for him. — " 

(V. ii. 382-7.) 



120 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 



vn 

Hamlet, a Deliverer. 

The success that has attended Hamlet's efforts 
proves hhn to be a deliverer of his countr}', as in the 
earlier versions of Saxo and Belleforest. He has rid 
his country of the corruption and criminality of 
Claudius without instigating a civil war, or causing 
the death of any innocent person but himself. He has 
refrained from the course of the vindictive Laertes 
of stirring up an internal insurrection, and has sacri- 
ficed only himself to his country's welfare. The coun- 
try has not been put into such turmoil and revolution 
as to invite an attack from the ambitious Fortinbras. 
The crown of Demnark has passed peaceably to his 
royal kinsman, Fortinbras. and Denmark goes on to- 
ward her national destiny. 

Hamlet has triumphed, therefore, even in his death. 
He has revenged the murder of his father, but several 
other persons have also lost their lives. This he very 
much regretted, for he tried to strike only the king. 
He has, however, accomplished his task without caus- 
ing war, and has discharged his duty both to his parent 
and to his country. All his plans have been realized, 
except his indifferent desire to become king, which he 
readily sacrificed to his larger duty. If any justifica- 
tion of his course of conduct is necessary, this will 
be undertaken by Horatio. Knowing Hamlet's con- 
cern for his good name, Horatio says he will 

"s}>eak to the yet unknowing world 
How these things came about; so shall you hear 
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, 
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, 
Of deaths put on by cunning, and forced cause. 



Hamlet 121 

And, in this upshot, purposes mistook 

Fall'n on the inventors' heads. All this can I 

Truly deliver." 

(V. ii. 366-373.) 

The death of Hamlet marks the extinction of the 
direct royal line of Denmark. Ulrici suggests that this 
is due to the wrong done by them as a line. Rather is 
it due solely to the crimes of Claudius, and but for 
Hamlet the punishment would have fallen also on the 
state. By his devotion he saved the state from being 
wrecked by his uncle's crimes, but in the very nature 
of things he could not save either himself or the wrong- 
doer. The over-ruling Providence, that is felt every- 
where in the play, is manifest not in the extinction of 
the line of kings, but in the deliverance from one great 
wrong-doer, and in the continuance of the state in 
peace, though in the hands of another but related 
king. 

The Character of Hamlet. 

There is practical unanimity among students of the 
play that Hamlet is the most intellectual character in 
the entire Shakespearean drama. Of the play Rapp 
has said that "Of all the poet's works, and indeed of 
all works in the world, Hamlet appears to me to be the 
richest in thought and the profoundest." ^ Stedefeld 
says of the prince that he is "an intellectual hero, a 
Titan, who is far above his whole surroundings, rising 
thus above them by insight, learning, culture, wisdom, 
and knowledge of men and the world." ^ No other 
character brings such a wealth of intellect, such a well- 
trained mind, such profundity of thought to the solu- 

* Eng. trans, in Furness, II., p. 295. 
^ Ibid., p. 343. 



122 Hamlety an Ideal Prince 

tion of the problem which the course of life and of the 
world present to him. He is in every way a deep 
scholar and a philosopher; and the unschooled Shake- 
speare shows his abiding respect for learning in making 
this scholar from Wittenberg the brightest mind 
among all the brilliant wits of his stage. 

The persons of the drama and the readers of the play 
unite in proclaiming Hamlet also a most noble char- 
acter. The difficulties that appear in the interpreta- 
tion of the play are intellectual, not moral. There is 
difficulty in understanding the problem presented to 
his mind, but there is practical agreement on the ex- 
cellence of his character. Critics have vied with one 
another to praise his noble personality. Goethe calls 
him "a beautiful, pure, and most moral nature." 
Campbell speaks of him as "so ideal, and yet so real 
an existence." Stedefeld says, "Hamlet is, according 
to the intention of the poet, in his whole bearing a 
noble, manly, chivalrous presence, with moral and re- 
ligious feeling." Professor Dowden says that "One 
of the deepest characteristics of Hamlet's nature is a 
longing for sincerity, for truth in mind and manners, 
an aversion for all that is false, affected, or exagger- 
ated." For this reason the play is sometimes spoken 
of as "a tragedy of moral idealism." But it is a trag- 
edy that is at the same time a triumph. 

Hamlet is distinguished among the characters of 
Shakespeare as the one pre-eminent for taking always 
the moral point of view. To all the other characters 
of the play he appears as a sort of moral-sense. Look- 
ing into his noble countenance they all became con- 
scious of their wrong-doings. The king is convicted 
of his crimes by the very presence of Hamlet. Polonius 
sees himself as a crafty trickster and moral idiot. The 



Hamlet 123 

queen is conscience-stricken when her son speaks to 
her and exclaims: 

"Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul. 
And there I see such black and grained spots 
As will not leave their tinct. ' 

(III. iv. 89-81.) 

There are no persons of the drama but realize his 
excellence, and in his presence are conscious of his 
goodness. It is he that brings the king to confess in 
his soliloquy the blackness of his deed, though he stifles 
his conscience, and does not declare his crime. And at 
the close of the play, all who survive unite in praise 
of his nobility. 

Justice cannot be done to Hamlet without the mention 
of his religious spirit. The very fact that he has an 
apparition of his father's spirit reveals a belief in an- 
other world. Hamlet is an idealist, and explains every- 
thing to himself in terms of spirit. It is by a visita- 
tion of a spirit from the other v/orld that he gets his 
life task, according to which he governs all his conduct. 
And he is not the fatalist Professor Bradley thinks 
he is, for his life is not the self-abandonment that ap- 
pears in his theory. He is quite capable of taking 
"arms against a sea of troubles," and still thinks that 
Providence over-rules our plans for the larger good. 
It was after he had exerted himself most strenuously 
in the direction of his own aff*airs and had turned his 
banishment to England against his persecutors, that 
he says, 

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them how we will." 

(V. ii. 10-11.) 

Hamlet lived his entire life in this moral and reli- 
gious spirit. All the qualities he admired and sought 



124 HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

were qualities of mind and soul. He did not care for 
place or distinction, and would not allow his com- 
panions to call themselves his servants, but insisted on 
calling them friends. He hated shams and pretences, 
and loved sincerity and honestj- of character. He had 
no false notions of royal dignity, and did not hesitate 
to love the daughter of the royal steward. He did 
not care for position, and had no laments for himself 
that he did not attain to the crown. He revered only 
moral and spiritual qualities in men, and worshipped 
God as the father of his spirit. He made the best of 
this life, and believed there was a better one to come. 
No character in all Shakespeare is so much an idealist. 
In the sordid conditions of his times, he lived entirely 
in the ideal world, and at the last sacrificed his life 
to gain an ideal end. He is at once the most intel- 
lectual, the most moral, the most truly religious, and 
at the same time the most heroic character in Shake- 
speare. 

Hamlet, an Ideal Prince. 

There can be little doubt that Shakespeare intended 
Hamlet to embody his ideal of the noble and patriotic 
prince. He had previously depicted from English his- 
tory all sorts of princes and kings, and had found a 
noble prince in Henry the Fifth. Both Hamlet and 
Henry are distinguished by their lofty and intelligent 
patriotism, though Hamlet is much the finer and nobler 
character. Henry was conscientious, but not so self- 
sacrificing. He w^as noble, but not distinguished by 
great intelligence. He lacked Hamlet's intensity of 
moral conviction and his profundity of thought. The 
dramatist could find his perfect ideal only in a legen- 
dary character, where his own imagination could work 



Hamlet 125 

upon his hero. This he might have found in Arthur, 
but he preferred to take a story already dramatized 
and picked out Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. 

In the English historical plays he had just written 
the dramatist found in all, with one exception, the 
stories of base ambition and vulgar lust for power. 
He had just concluded his studies of the long and 
bloody struggle between Lancaster and York, culmi- 
nating in the brutal reign of Richard the Third, his 
one ideal villain. With the exception of Henry the 
Fifth these rulers were ever ready at any time to 
plunge their country into war, and to keep it strug- 
gling for generations in the hope of realizing their 
own personal ambitions. They had never considered 
their country, but were always ready for civil war 
or foreign war if there was any chance to achieve 
their own glory. 

But Hamlet is a prince of another sort. As in 
Saxo and Belleforest, and as well in the German play, 
his chief thought was for his country. He would 
rather endure the ills he had than involve his country 
in bloody civil strife, or invite the armed intervention 
of a foreign prince. Though his uncle Claudius was a 
corrupt and demoralizing influence in the state, Hamlet 
seemed to think it would only make matters worse to 
try to dethrone him by armed force. He therefore 
seeks other means of accomplishing his moral task, 
and trusts to the moral character of fate to find a 
way to avenge his father and deliver his country. His 
moral faith did not in the end miscarry, and he lived 
to see the murderer and tyrant punished and his own 
course vindicated. As a true patriot he did not count 
his own life at a pin's fee when the moral fate of his 
country was at stake. He was satisfied to see the 



126 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

crown pass peaceably to the head of one no less 
worthy than his kinsman Fortinbras of Norway. 
Under him the two rival nations could unite, and peace 
would be maintained. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE: 



OR SHAKESPEARE S CHRISTIAN AND JEW 



CHAPTER III 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE: 

OR Shakespeare's christian and jew 



IT is becoming quite obvious to students that we 
have been in danger of losing Shakespeare as an 
Ehzabethan dramatist, and have not entirely suc- 
ceeded in making him a modern dramatist. There can 
be no doubt that succeeding ages have developed mean- 
ings for many of the plays that would have been incon- 
ceivable for an Elizabethan dramatist and unacceptable 
to an Elizabethan audience. The interest of the theatre 
has tended to make them into modern plays, and scholar- 
ship has been unable to interpret them for us as Eliza- 
bethan. But one benefit of the Shakespeare revival 
and of modern scholarship has doubtless been a more 
adequate conception of Elizabethan conditions, and 
hence a better understanding of Shakespeare as a 
dramatist of his own age. Shakespeare no doubt 
addressed himself to his own times and^ presented a 
message to his contemporaries, but that message has in 
many cases been lost to our age. To rediscover that 
message and to determine its value for us is a worthy 
task for modern scholarship. 

No play, perhaps, more than The Merchaiit of 
Venice has been subject to tliis modernizing spirit, 
for its dramatic excellence luis kept it almost continu- 

129 



130 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

ously on the stage. Though a valuable play in its 
modern form, it is important that we should not lose 
its original significance. In its present rendering the 
play has ceased almost completely to be a story of 
Antonio, the Merchant of Venice, and has become the 
story of Shylock, the Jew of Venice, and the misfor- 
tunes that befell him. "In this way," as Mr. Poel has 
said, Shylock "becomes tragic, and, contrary to the 
dramatist's intention, is made the leading part." ^ 
The play is, then, sadly in need of a new study, and of 
a reconstruction in the light of what we now know of 
the Elizabethan mind and conditions. 

The criticism of the play has from the first re- 
volved about the person and character of Shylock, 
and has in large measure been determined by the atti- 
tude of each age toward the Jews. Racial and re- 
ligious prejudices have taken the place of candid study 
of the play, and Shakespeare has become to one gen- 
eration a Jew-baiter and to the next a Jew-apologist. 
For the first two centuries after Shakespeare, Shy- 
lock was universally condemned and execrated, and 
the play was considered a keen arraignment of the 
character and practices of the Jewish race. With the 
lapse of time, however, and with a more enlightened 
opinion of the Jews, people began to see in the play 
a great plea for the persecuted Jew, and a condem- 
nation of Christian prejudice and malice. Christians 
now have come to sympathize with Shylock, and Jews 
repudiate him as a representative of their race. 
These two types of interpretation now exist side by 
side, and no one can assure us of the real meaning 
of the play. May it not be, therefore, that there is 
truth in both views, and that the present task of the 
^Shakespeare in the Theatre, by W. Poel, p. 70. London, 1913. 



The Merchant of Venice 131 

critic is to extract that truth, and to assign to each 
view its value and its limitations? 



II 

There can be little doubt that to Elizabethan audi- 
ences generally Shylock was an object of condemna- 
tion and execration. It was the fashion of the times 
to despise the Jews, and to hold them up to scorn, 
as Marlowe did in The Jew of Malta, Audiences 
were filled with prejudices against them, and greatly 
enjoyed the spectacle of a Jew abused on the stage. 
It is pretty generally admitted now by scholars that 
Jews on the stage were looked upon as comic person- 
ages, and that they would be greeted with laughter 
and scorn. -^ The element of tragedy in such plays 
seems to have escaped the audiences entirely. 

Shakespeare's play, therefore, at once suggests it- 
self to us as an attempt to better and perhaps to 
correct the interpretation of Jewish character pre- 
sented by Marlowe in his play. Marlowe at this time 
was Shakespeare's greatest dramatic rival, though he 
had died probably four or five years before Shakespeare 
produced The Merchant of Venice, His work, how- 
ever, had surpassed that of all other dramatists, and 
now Shakespeare was challenging his supremacy. 
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, then, was sure to 
invite comparison with Marlowe's Jew of Malta, and 
with the interpretation of Jewish character there 
presented. 

At this time the law did not permit Jews to reside 
in England, though a few of them'^were actually there. 

^ Cf. Brandes, William Shakespeare, English trans., p. 164, 
London, 1902. 



132 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

It might be supposed, therefore, that neither of the 
dramatists really had a chance to understand the 
Jewish character, and that whatever they had to say 
would be largely a matter of hearsay and prejudice. 
The Jews of the present day certainly resent having 
Shylock regarded as a typical Jew, and insist that 
he is but a caricature of the real Jew. However it 
may be in the matter of individual character, there is 
less reason to resent Shakespeare's interpretation of 
the Jewish system of thought, as seen in Shylock. 

Some recent writers have felt convinced that Shake- 
speare fully shared with his audience this prejudice 
against the Jews, and that in his play he meant to 
ridicule and execrate Shylock. These convictions have 
been voiced by Professor Stoll in a recent paper in 
which he sums up the matter in these words : "By 
all the devices of Shakespeare's dramaturgy, then, 
Shylock is proclaimed, as by the triple repetition of 
a crier, to be the villain, a comic villain, though, or 
butt. ... A miser, a ^loney-lender, a Jew, — all these 
three had from time immemorial been objects of popu- 
lar detestation and ridicule, whether in life or on the 
stage." ^ 

There is no doubt that this is the light in which 
Shakespeare makes Shylock appear to the other per- 
sons of the drama, particularly to Antonio and his 
friends. But how far this reflects the prejudices of 
the age, and how far the dramatist himself shared in 
these prejudices must be sought outside the matter 
of the play. On the strength of the play alone Shake- 
speare cannot be charged with the blind and passionate 
bigotry all but universal in his day. He really had 

^ "Shylock," article in Journal of English and Germanic Phi- 
lology, X. 2. 1911, p. 244. 



The Merchant of Venice 133 

no share in this Jewish hatred, and rose far above 
the common level of such vulgar prejudice. A com- 
parison of his Shylock with Marlowe's Barabas, or 
with any other Jew of the earlier drama, reveals an 
absence of any bigotry, and discloses a new and 
better attitude toward the Jews. All critics have 
noticed that his Jew is a man and not a monster, a 
human being and not a fiend. His play may be in 
i some measure a protest against such caricatures of 
the Jews. 

During the two centuries following Shakespeare the 
same racial and religious antipathies continued, and 
are reflected in the attitude of the public and of the 
critics toward Shakespeare's play. It was all but 
universally thought that the dramatist was endeavoring 
merely to "hold the Jew up to detestation," glorying 
in the discomfiture of Shylock, and rejoicing in his 
enforced conversion to Christianity. It was conceded, 
however, that as usual Shakespeare took higher ground 
than that of the traditional Jew-baiter, and raised 
his victim quite above the current notion of Jewish 
depravity. 

The beginning of an entirely new attitude toward 
the play may be noticed near the end of the eighteenth 
century. Reversing all former opinion, actors and 
critics began to think that instead of a Jew-baiter, 
Shakespeare was in reality a Jew-apologist. They 
maintained that he intended to portray in Shylock a 
great representative of his race, one who appeared as 
its advocate, avenger, and martyr, only bettering the 
Christian example, and exposing the shamelessness of 
the Christians by turning their practices upon them- 
selves. 

This view appears to have been set forth first in 



134 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

the last decade of the eighteenth century. Furness 
says: "Chronologically, the earliest voice, as far as I 
know, which was raised in defence of Shylock and in 
denunciation of the illegality of his defeat is that of 
an Anonymous Contributor to a volume of Essays by 
a Society of Gentlemen at Exeter, printed in 1792. 
The Essay is called 'An Apology for the Character 
and Conduct of Shylock,' and is signed 'T. O.' " The 
Essayist admits that Shylock is cruel, but pleads 
that he was made so by ill-treatment, and goes on to 
deplore "the lax state of morality" that has always 
accepted the verdict of the unjust trial without an 
instance of censure or of unfavorable sentiment.^ 

Public sentiment began to turn in Shylock's favor, 
however, as Furness says, only "when Edmund Kean, 
in 1814, revealed a Jew almost more sinned against 
than sinning, and one who simplj^ bettered the instruc- 
tion of Christian example." ' It appears further that 
"Campbell in 1833, was the first among Editors to 
maintain openly that Shylock was an ill-used man, with 
nothing unnatural in his character, and that he was 
overcome 'only by a legal quibble.' " ^ In the two cen- 
turies since Elizabeth, human sj^mpathies had broad- 
ened, and as Brandes puts it, "In the humaner view of 
a later age Shylock appears as a half-pathetic creation, 
a scapegoat, a victim." "* 

The most recent advocate of this very modern view 
says that The Merchant of Venice is an "example of 
a masked design, of a subtly disguised purpose. 
There was one drama which jibed at the Jew — and 
defended him ; one which exposed his inhumanity — 

^ Furness, Variorum Merchant of Venice, pp. 403-4. 

^Ihid., p. 40S. 

•J6td, p. 405. 

* Willia/m Shakespeare, p. 164. 



The Merchant of Venice 135 

and his human feeling; one which revealed him as 
pitiless — and an object of pity; one which showed the 
iniquity he dealt out to others — and the iniquity 
dealt out to him." This interpretation of the play 
makes it Shakespeare's grand plea for tolerance, and 
"the most stupendous, the most remorseless satire 
. . . against the extremes and follies of his age." ^ 

While it may be admitted that this modern attitude 
displays a commendable advance in human sympathy, 
it cannot pass as an interpretation of the play. There 
is nothing convincing about any of these views that 
make the dramatist a preacher of tolerance or an advo- 
cate of any sect or creed. Nothing has appeared in 
any of the recent discussions of the play to make it 
necessary to differ from the opinion of Professor 
Ward, uttered now over a quarter of a century ago: 
"It is, I am convinced, only modern readers and modern 
actors who suppose that Shakespeare consciously in- 
tended to arouse the sympathy of his audience on be- 
half of the Jew." 2 

These widely divergent views appear to be reflections 
of the spirit of the Elizabethan and Victorian ages 
respectively, rather than interpretations of the play 
itself. On the strength of the play it is not necessary 
to accuse Shakespeare of all the anti- Jewish prejudices 
of his age, such as were in evidence in the trial and 
condemnation of Dr. Lopez in 1594, only a few years 
before he wrote his play. Nor is it possible, on the 
strength of the play alone, to maintain that Shake- 
speare was an apologist of Shylock the Jew, and a 
satirist of Antonio the Christian. The dramatist no- 

^J. Cuming Walters, "The Jew that Shakespeare Drew," in 
Shakespearean Addresses, pp. 269-270, 274. London, 1912. 

^History of English Dramatic Literature, I. 189. London, 1875. 



136 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 

where else has played the role of accuser or advocate 
of any special creed or religion or politics, or of any 
particular sect or race or party, and it is too much 
to ask us to admit it in connection with this play. 
No successful attempt has ever been made to enlist 
him in any school or church or party. He every- 
where plays a much larger role than either accuser or 
defender, prosecutor or advocate. He seems to be 
above all such dissensions and divisions that separate 
men, like the Judge of all the earth, 

"holding no form of creed. 
But contemplating all." 

If Shakespeare is as great and original in power 
of thought as admittedly he is in dramatic skill, we 
must learn to interpret him not by his age, nor by our 
age, but by himself. So little do we know of his life, 
and so meagre are the accounts by his friends and 
contemporaries of what manner of man he was, that 
there is little certain reflection of his thought in any- 
thing but his written work. It is in his poems and 
plays alone that we can, at this day, find any evidence 
that Shakespeare unlocked either his heart or his mind. 
Our first duty, then, toward this play is to discard as 
far as we may our own opinions of Shylock as a man 
and a Jew, and of Antonio as a man and a Christian, 
and let the words of the play creep into our ears 
and see if the dramatist does not make harmony out 
of the many discordant notes of the various stories 
that he incorporated into this great drama. 

Ill 

Hints, but only hints, of the dramatist's meaning 
may be derived from a study of the material with 



The Merchant of Venice 137 

which he worked, and of the process by which he con- 
structed his play. His method of handhng his ma- 
terial, and the result of his art in the finished drama, 
are the only sources of our knowledge of the mind 
of Shakespeare. Unfortunately, the old play men- 
tioned by Gosson, which it is agreed by all is the most 
likely immediate source of Shakespeare's play, has 
been lost, but we possess all the other known earlier 
versions of the narratives that the dramatist may 
have used. We know enough, however, about the play 
mentioned by Gosson to make it clear that not one of 
all these earlier versions affords any real help for the 
interpretation of Shakespeare's play. The conviction 
is inevitable with all critics that none of these versions 
have the same theme or possess any of the great 
qualities of The Merchant of Venice, Gosson's ref- 
erence to the lost play as "The Jew . . . representing 
the greediness of worldly chusers, and the bloody minds 
of Usurers" lets us see that already before Shake- 
speare worked upon this material the two stories of the 
Caskets and the Pound of Flesh had been combined 
into a single drama. Of direct importance, however, 
in our understanding of Shakespeare, the words of 
Gosson let us see that the old play was primarily the 
story of Shylock, and that in it the Jew was held up 
to execration after the manner of all plays and stories 
of the times dealing with Jewish characters. It may 
be concluded, therefore, that the old play did not con- 
tain anything of the wonderful, pulsating life, or depth 
of meaning to be found in Shakespeare's play. 

All we know, then, of the older stories, or plays, 
leaves it clear that it was Shakespeare who changed it 
from the "Jew" to the "Merchant" of Venice, com- 
pletely transforming its inner meaning. After Shake- 



I'i8 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

speare, as we know, Lansdowne once more changed it 
back into the "Jew" of Venice, thereby losing the great 
value of the work of Shakespeare. The change made 
by Shakespeare is significant of the alteration in the 
point of view and of the consequent meaning of the 
story. Shakespeare's play is no longer the narrative 
of a usurious and relentless Jew, but the story of the 
danger and subsequent escape of a Christian merchant 
from the clutches of a Jewish money-lender. It is 
therefore not primarily anti-Jewish, as were the old 
forms of the story, for the conflict of Christian and 
Jew issues only in connection with Bassanio's pursuit 
of love, which is the main story of the play. The old 
racial and religious quarrel, by being related to the 
love story, receives a new vital and moral significance. 
Its solution, moreover, aff'ected as it is by Bassanio's 
success in love, is worked out on the plane of ordinary 
human and moral relationships. 

Shakespeare everywhere has the habit of encasing 
great and elementary human passions in some of the 
quite ordinary affairs or transactions of life, thus ex- 
hibiting their essential relations to life and its tasks 
and problems. He has accordingly enclosed the con- 
flict of Antonio and Shylock in the more usual but 
romantic story of Bassanio's love for Portia, and has 
made the latter both the occasion and the solution of 
the racial conflict, jit is the conflict of the Christian 
and the Jew, however, that is the one all-absorbing 
topic of the play, and it is Shylock who is the one 
great commanding personalit3\ Even Portia herself, 
though so much more excellent, and so charming as 
a woman, can scarcely rival Shylock in dramatic or 
in popular interest. It is Shylock's loan that makes 
possible the Caskets Scene ; for Bassanio could not have 



The Merchant of Venice 139 

made the venture without his money. Shylock, too, is 
the center of the Trial Scene; for he is the plaintiff 
who asks the Court to decide the matter of his bond. 
When Shylock finally leaves the stage in the fourth act 
the main interest has departed, and the fifth act has 
seemed to many to be an unimportant though pretty 
addition to the story. 

The opening scenes of Shakespeare, it has been 
maintained, strike the key-note of the actions and 
motives of the plays. To overlook these or to mis- 
understand them is to fail in grasping the meaning of 
the entire play. With the exception of Hamlet, no 
play has suffered more from this than The Merchant 
of Venice, Shakespeare seldom, if ever, mis-names his 
plays, and to call this play the "Merchant" rather 
than the "Jew" of Venice means that Antonio and not 
Shylock is to be the subject of the story. That Shy- 
lock at a later time and for a few scenes becomes 
the center of interest does not mean that the play 
ceases to be chiefly the story of Antonio. 

It is therefore of prime importance to notice that 
the chief actors in the earlier scenes are Antonio and 
Bassanio, on the one hand, and Portia and Nerissa on 
the other. In these two scenes the motive of the entire 
play is laid before us, and Shylock has not yet put in 
an appearance, nor has his name once been mentioned. 
The Jew appears for the first time in the third scene, 
and finally disappears entirely, as everybody has 
noticed, before the close of the fourth act. This leaves 
the beautiful fifth act to complete the action begun 
in the first two scenes. 

Shylock, then, is not the play, but only an important 
incident of the play. He appears only as a compli- 
cation of the initial plot, which apart from him would 



1^0 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

reach its solution when Bassanio chooses the right 
casket. This would complete the Caskets Story, which 
Shakespeare thus makes the main plot but not the 
entire plot of his drama. With this he complicates 
the Story of the Pound of Flesh, which introduces 
the character of Shylock. The third story, that of 
Jessica, is a link between the two, and helps to solve 
the complication caused by Shylock's hatred of the 
Christians. 

At the opening of the play, Antonio is presented as 
^^sad," and Portia as "weary." Antonio's first words 
are: 

"In sooth I know not why I am so sad, 
It wearies me: you say it wearies you." 

(I. i. 1-2.) 

Not much better is the condition of Portia, as her 
words indicate: 

"By my troth Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great 
world." 

(I. ii. 1-9.) 

Antonio's melancholy ^ and Portia's weariness both seem 
constitutional, and both foreshadow some of the diffi- 
culties and impending disasters that later develop in 
the play. Antonio always forebodes the worst, as in 
the Trial Scene when he is ready to give up and let 
Shylock claim his pound of flesh. Portia, though not 
so apprehensive, is equally disposed to take things se- 
riously and to let them weigh upon her mind. The 
"sadness" of the one may be taken as helping to pro- 
duce the situation of the Bond Story, and the "weari- 
ness" of the other as magnifying the uncertainty and 
hence anxiety of the Caskets Story. Both moods 
^ Cf. Furness, p. 2. 



The Merchant of Venice 141 

taken together forecast the serious and tragic nature 
of the two issues of the drama. All the elements of 
tragedy seem to be present, and are averted only by 
the inherent moral character of Fate. 

The situation of the play, outlined in the first two 
scenes, is taken, then, entirely from the story of the 
Caskets. These two scenes present all the original 
persons of the drama. The action consists of Antonio's 
equipment, or the arrangements for the equipment, of 
Bassanio with the means to pursue his love for Portia. 
Because of his spendthrift habits Bassanio finds himself 
unable for want of money to furnish an expedition 
worthy of a pilgrimage to Belmont, to hazard his 
fortunes for the hand of the heiress. He therefore 
appeals to his wealthy friend, Antonio the merchant, 
for the necessary amount. His friend, however, does 
not have the ready money for the purpose, but as he is 
rich in ships and merchandise he offers to use his 
credit to borrow the money: 

"Try what my credit can in Venice do, 
That shall be rackt even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia." 

(I. i. 190-3.) 

Bassanio has been called a mere adventurer, and 
not a true lover, because in soliciting aid from Antonio 
he does not plead his love for Portia, but proposes the 
matter only as a means "to get clear of all the debts 
I owe." His every word about the lady, however, lets 
us see that he is deeply in love with her, and his con- 
fidence of success bespeaks the assurance of a lover. 
Moreover, the entire course of the play certifies to his 
true love, especially his manly self-renunciation in the 
choice of the leaden casket. It would also be quite out 



142 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

of the spirit of Shakespeare to make so much turn 
on the success of a fickle and adventurous love. The 
creator of Romeo and Juliet knew as few have ever 
known that it is only true love that can snatch victory 
from the most adverse conditions in life. 

Portia, meanwhile, is languishing in the uncertainty 
connected with the choice of the caskets. This esti- 
mable 3^oung lady is the surviving daughter of a 
wealthy but eccentric old father whose will decrees 
that her hand shall be given in marriage onlj^ to him 
who shall choose the right one among three caskets 
arranged in accordance with his plan. She is very ill 
at ease under this necessit}^ which seems to her onl}^ 
a strange form of chance. Suitors have come and 
have gone, some refusing to take the risk of loss, and 
leaving without making any choice ; others have chosen 
wrong, and have accordingly been condemned to bitter 
disappointment and perpetual celibacy. Bassanio, 
however, who had previously come to Belmont in the 
company of another, had already made a very favor- 
able impression on both Nerissa and Portia, who "re- 
members him worthy of praise." Thus Bassanio, even 
before the splendid expedition equipped by Antonio, is 
an acceptable suitor for the hand of Portia. 

The theme of the drama, then, is derived in the first 
instance from the Caskets Story, and consists in 
Bassanio's pursuit of the love of Portia, equipped as 
he is by the generosity of his friend, Antonio. The 
love of Antonio for Bassanio supplies the situation 
that inaugurates the first conflict of the drama. This 
same friendliness, however, gets the merchant into 
conflict with the Jew. Then in turn, the happy cul- 
mination of Bassanio's love aff'air supplies Antonio 
with the legal skill of his friend's wife, by which he 



The Merchant of Venice 143 

eludes the clutches of Shylock. In the last act, then, 
there is a return to the original theme of the play, 
and Bassanio is enabled through his wife's riches to 
repay the debt to his faithful friend, Antonio. The 
Caskets Story thus furnishes the original theme of the 
drama, and in turn also the frame-work for the still 
more absorbing conflict of Christian and Jew, con- 
tained in the story of the Pound of Flesh. 



IV 

Antonio's lack of ready money to equip his friend 
properly to undertake the expedition for the hand of 
fair Portia leads him to try his credit among the 
money-lenders of Venice, who of coul'se are Jews. 
While potentially very rich, Antonio's wealth is all 
at sea in his many ships, and his bond is all that he 
can give for the ready money. This he is willing to 
give to show his friendship for the excellent Bassanio. 
The greatest and most absorbing conflict of the drama 
begins with the attempt of the Christians and Jew to 
arrange satisfactory terms for the loan of the money. 

Now for the first time the venerable figure of Shy- 
lock appears upon the stage. It is to him that the 
Christians appeal for the necessary money; but he is 
very unwilling to lend to them until he hits upon the 
device of the pound of flesh as his security. The two 
are hostile parties from the outset, and the Christians 
expecting no kindness are prepared to give Shylock 
the most favorable terms. Difl^ering as they do on 
all other matters they expect this to be a hard bargain. 
In their diff^erences there are many elements of bitter- 
ness and resentment, but all alike grow out of the 
fact that the two parties belong to diff^erent races 



144 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

and religions which liave different standards and prac- 
tices of business. Tlie play, then, becomes Shake- 
speare's dramatic study of these two types. 

The encounter of Antonio and Shy lock, and the 
terms of the loan, the dramatist is careful to set before 
us clearly and fully. Bassanio has met Shylock on the 
Rialto, and has secured the promise of the money on 
the bond of Antonio. This at once introduces into 
the play the conflict of greatest interest, that between 
the Christian and the Jew. Even in the arrange- 
ments for the loan of the money we see the shadow 
of the great impending conflict between Antonio and 
Shylock. The attempt of these old enemies, the mer- 
chant and the money-lender, to strike a bargain 
arouses all their mutual prejudices and antipathies. 
Shylock, however, in his eagerness to strike a bargain 
endeavors to conceal his burning hatred. He foresees 
his long-looked-for chance to revenge himself for in- 
juries done by Antonio. While outwardly professing 
friendship, to himself he says : "I hate him for he is 
a Christian." This hypocritical friendship is in 
strange contrast to the acknowledged unfriendliness 
of Antonio, who admits the indignities he has heaped 
upon the Jew, and professes he is as like to do the 
same again. If Shylock lends him the money it is not 
to be on the plea of friendship, but "rather to thine 
enemy." Antonio has nothing to conceal, and wishes 
to deal entirely in the open. He detests Shylock's 
methods and principles of business, but in the present 
emergency he is w^illing to come to his terms. 

There is no doubt some truth in the accusation that 
Shakespeare's portrayal of Shylock is nothing but a 
caricature of the Jewish character. A similar criti- 
cism, however, might bo made concerning the character 



The Merchant of Venice 145 

of Antonio as a Christian. In his Jew of Malta 
Marlowe is thought to caricature not only the Jew 
but also the Christian, for he makes them both rather 
despicable. In his play, however, Shakespeare has 
changed both for the better, and if he has not re- 
moved the caricature entirely from the Jew, neither 
has he removed it entirely from the Christian. If Shy- 
lock is a mediaeval and not a modern Jew, Antonio is no 
less a mediaeval and not a modern Christian. In this 
respect one portrait has but little advantage over the 
other, for both alike fall short of the many excellences 
of the Jewish and Christian characters with which we 
are now-a-days familiar.^ 

Excellent as he is in many particulars, Antonio, 
to us, is far from an admirable character. To his 
friends and fellow-Christians he may be magnanimous 
and generous, and Salanio calls him "the good Antonio, 
the honest Antonio." But to Jews he acknowledges no 
obligations, regarding them as dogs rather than men ; 
while to Shylock in particular he is a contemptuous 
and implacable foe. He conceived no obligation of 
love to any but his friends, and made no apology for 
a bitter hatred and contempt towards his enemies. 
His circle of duty took in only those of his own creed 
and excluded those of other nations and creeds. His 
Christianity was essentially mediaeval in its narrow- 
ness, both in doctrine and in practice. 

Antonio is nevertheless the representative Christian 
of the play. He is not, however, a modern Christian, 
but was, no doubt, a good type of the Christian of his 
day. He embodies the narrow, medifeval conception 

' Cf. "Shakespeare's Jew and Marlowe's Christians," by William 
Poel, in his Shakespeare in the Theatre, pp. 69-84. 



146 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

of Christianity, and, therefore, he is not to us an 
ideal character.^ His conception of Christianity is 
restricted and exclusive, but he conscientiously lives up 
to his notion of duty, and in every emergency makes 
his appeal to Christian principles and practices. In 
the conflict with the Jew, all the Christians become 
very conscious of their religious difference from Shy- 
lock, and side with Antonio as the representative of 
their religion. Between Shylock and Antonio, then, 
the conflict appears much less a personal matter than 
an antagonism of religion and ethics. 

Shylock is portrayed as personally less excellent 
than Antonio, though a much more manly Jew than the 
English drama had ever presented before. No one, 
however, who knows anything of the Elizabethan frame 
of mind can fairly think the dramatist intended him as 
a hero and a martyr, or can imagine an audience re- 
garding him as such. It is too great a stretch of 
imagination to maintain that Shakespeare intended 
the Jew for the very opposite of what his audience 
would undoubted^ understand him to be. Shylock's 
cruelty and vindictiveness make it impossible for us to 
think that Shakespeare intended him to be regarded 
as a noble but much abused Jew, whose only misdeeds 
were his acrimonious defences of himself and his race 
from the persecutions of the Christians. His char- 
acteristics are too strong and positive to admit of 
such a lenient view. Snakespeare could not fail to 
know that some of the qualities portrayed in him were 
among those that an Elizabethan audience would in- 
evitably regard as most detestable. As Professor Stoll 
says, "Shylock was both money-lender and Jew. In 

*C/. ''The Merchant of Venice as an Exponent of Industrial 
Ethics," by J. Clark Murray, International Journal of Ethics, 
Vol. IX, 1898-9; pp. 331-349. 



The Merchant of Venice 147 

him are combined two of the deepest and most preva- 
lent social antipathies of two thousand years, still 
sanctioned, in Shakespeare's day, by the teachings of 
religion." ^ 

No doubt Shakespeare was in this as in all other 
matters more humane than his age, how much more 
humane may be measured by the difference between his 
Shylock and Marlowe's Barabas. The fact that he 
had to reckon on the antipathy of his audience toward 
the Jew would lead him to eliminate from Shylock all 
objectionable moral characteristics if he wished him to 
obtain their sympathy in the end. But this he has 
not done. He has left him with such personal char- 
acteristics as, in either Jew or Christian, would elicit 
the condemnation of his audience. It is only a modern 
actor before a modern audience that could make Shy- 
lock appear as more sinned against than sinning. 

In his personal character, moreover, Shylock is 
portrayed as less excellent than Antonio. The mer- 
chant has many good and true friends, whose words 
and deeds testify to his generosity and to his many 
excellent qualities. But Shylock has scarcely any 
friends. Tubal seems to be the only one in whom he 
can confide, or in whom he can trust. His conduct has 
robbed him of any love in his own home. In all his 
dealings Shylock is portrayed as greedy, as miserly, 
and as tyrannical. If this were manifest only in his 
dealings with Christians, it might be considered an 
expression of religious ill-will and intolerance, but it is 
also shown in his treatment of his own household. His 
servant, Launcelot, leaves him for the service of the 
Christian, Bassanio, in hopes of better treatment, 
giving as his reason, "I am famished in his service." 

^Op. cit, p. SiQQ, 



148 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

His own daughter, Jessica, when she marries, prefers 
a Christian, hoping for better home conditions, for 
she sa^^s, "Our house is hell." Shylock's sorrow at her 
elopement is not so much at the loss of his daughter 
as of his ducats, and he would gladly see her brought 
:^ home dead if only his ducats would also be brought 
in the coffin with her. "Jessica my girl," spoken 
by him as he leaves his home in her care, as Booth has 
remarked, "are the only words that Shylock speaks, 
which in the least degree approach gentleness, and 
they mean nothing." ^ Even his grief over the tur- 
quoise ring given him by his wife is more for its value 
than for its sentiment. 

How^ far Shakespeare intends to imply that these 
are the characteristics of the universal Jew it would 
be difficult to say. But they are the characteristics 
of the universal money-lender, and Shylock was a 
Jewish money-lender. If not in his personal character, 
at least in his religion Shylock is undoubtedly pre- 
sented as the typical Jew. In every particular he 
exhibits the mind and habits of the mediaeval Jew, and 
in every extremity he puts forw^ard the examples and 
principles of the Jew^ish religion, making them excuses 
for his greed and avarice and crueltv- He takes the 
Jewish Jacob as his excimple, and invokes the blessing 
of "father Abram," and looks to the Old Testament 
for all his moral precepts. It is therefore his religion 
quite as much as his personal character tliat is on trial 
in the play, just as in the case of Antonio. In every 
emergency both fall back upon the peculiar principles 
and practices of their religions, and it is these as much 
as the men that are tested in the final trial. 

Thus the two men are led to oxliibit tlie limitations 
^ Furness, p. 88. 



The Merchant of Venice 149 

of their principles by putting them consistently into 
practice. As Professor Moulton has well said, 'Tic- 
tion is the experimental side of human science." ^ 
Shylock does not represent the best of his religion, 
and Antonio displays very little Christian charity. 
Both develop the irony of their positions by holding 
firmly to the letter that killeth and neglecting the 
spirit that giveth life. To this extent, then, the play 
is a battle of creeds, and not only "Portia's eloquent 
contrast between justice and mercy," as Dr. Brandes 
says, but also the issue of the play would no doubt be 
understood by the public ''as an assertion of the su- 
periority of Christian ethics to the Jewish insistence on 
the letter of the law." ^ 

That the antagonism between the two men takes the 
forms both of religious creed and business methods may 
be seen in connection with the loan of money. Shy- 
lock then freely admitted that "Antonio is a good 
man," meaning that his bond was sufficient security, 
even though all his ships were at sea. He is reluctant, 
however, to lend to him, for as he says, "I hate him 
for he is a Christian." Then he adds the still deeper 
reason by saying that he hates him, 

"more, for that in low simplicity, 
He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice." 

(I. iii. 43-45.) 

This is a conflict of methods of business, but it grows 
out of the differences in religion. The Christians, 
thinking money was barren, would not take increase 
or interest for its use. They did not know that it 

^ Four Years of Novel Readincf, p. 4; Boston, D. C. Heath 
k Co. 

* William Shakespeare, English trans., pp. 157-8. 



130 HamUty an Ideal Prince 

was not money, but ewes and rams that really were 
borrowed, and that these have a natural increase. 
The Jews, having few other ways of Hving, had no 
scruples about lending money on interest. When, 
therefore, Shylock finally insists on lending the m'one^ 
without interest, as the Christians did, Antonio sue 
gests. ''This Hebrew will turn Christian, he grow- 
kind.^' (I. iii. 183-4.) 

The loan, however, is not arranged until Shylock 
has taken his opportunity to express the deep hatred, 
"a certain loathing,'' which he bears toward Antonio 
personally. He reminds him of the many indignities 
and insults he has endured from him, and of the 
patience with which he has borne it all. Then in a 
conciliatory manner he adds. 

"I would be friends with you, and have your love. 
Forget the shames that you have stained me with. 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me, 
This is kind I offer." 

(I. iii. 142-146.) 

The Christians had not. however, expected anything 

but a hard bargain from their old enemy, and are 

greatly surprised at his apparently easy terms. He 

will not merely take no interest, but as securitj- for 

the money he will take only Antonio's bond, which shall 

be signed ''in a merry sport,'' that if the sum of money 

is not paid on such a day the forfeit shall be 

"an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of vour bodv it pleaseth me/' 

(I. iii. 154-6.) 

Antonio' is quite willing to give this bond, as he feeU 
secure in his many ships; but Bassanio protests 
strongly. 



The Merchant of Venice 151 

"You shall not seal to such a bond for me, 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity." 

(I. iii. 159-160.) 

Antonio, having no suspicions, had no idea of the deep 
revenge that lay behind that apparently innocent 
bond. But Shylock knew : 

"If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him." 

(I. iii. 46-47.) 

In spite of the further protest of Bassanio, who likes 
not "fair terms and a villain's mind," the bond is 
agreed to, the money passed over, and Bassanio betakes 
himself to Belmont. 



The object of Bassanio's quest, the beautiful and 
wealthy Portia, exhibits considerable concern as one 
after another of her would-be husbands chooses among 
the caskets. She and Nerissa have a good deal of 
serious merriment as they discuss the virtues of these 
suitors, and of apprehension as they lead them to the 
caskets to choose. Portia thinks it rather an unfair 
crdeal to subject her to such a chance, and considers it 
unwonted caprice on her father's part: 

"I may neither choose v/hom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, 
so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead 
father." 

(I. ii. 93-25.) 

It all looked as though she would be subject to the 
humiliation and danger of being won by chance. But 
such was not the case. What it did was to replace 
her right of free choice by an arrangement providing 



1-52 Hamhty an Ideal Prince 

for the higher necessity of her moral nature in securing 
as her husband a worthy and honorable man. The 
inscriptions on the caskets were so ingeniously devised 
that no one but a worthy man would ever choose the 
leaden casket — one who would truly love Portia, and 
whose character was guaranteed by the purity and un- 
selfishness of his love. This faith the dramatist puts 
into the words of Xerissa : 

"The lottery . . . will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rigbtly, 
but one who you shall rightlv love." 

(I. u. 58-32.) 

When the Prince of Morocco came to choose he wa> 
caught by the inscription on the golden casket: "Who 
chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." In hi- 
argument before choosing, he showed clearly that what 
he desired was the great wealth of Portia, as typified 
in the golden casket. Instead of what he exj>ected, he- 
found only "a carrion death,'' and a written scroll tha: 
reminded liim that he had been guided by avarice to 
choose for gain. 

Little better, if any, was the choice of the Prince of 
Arragon, who was taken by the inscription on the 
silver casket : '^Who chooseth me shall get as much as 
he deserves.*' Then in his arrogant self-conceit and 
pride he felt sure that it was he who deserved the noble 
Portia : "I will assume my desert.'' And he opened the 
silver casket only to find "the portrait of a blinking 
idiot,'' to suggest to him his true worth, and to assure 
him that only fools boast of their deserts. 

Bassanio, however, who had already won the love 
of Portia, came with a different motive, and chose th- 
leaden casket with the inscription: "Who chooseth mt 
must give and hazard all he hath." His love for Portia 
was so genuine and so intense that he was willing to 



The Merchant of Venice 153 

risk all to win her. The pure love he bore her made 
him the only one worthy of her. He could not lose 
on these conditions, for the inscriptions were of such 
a character that the false must lose and the true 
must win. There was no accident about the choice, 
but it was the outcome of a moral necessity. The 
ingenious scheme of her father was, therefore, vin- 
dicated, and Bassanio became the happy husband of 
the lovely Portia. No. wonder the daughter of a father 
so clever should herself prove ingenious in the subse- 
quent defence of her husband's friend. 

While to all outward appearance the two contending 
parties to the loan are now at peace, these relation- 
ships are presently again disturbed. The conflict, 
however, is deep but not irreconcilable. The mar- 
riage of Jessica and Lorenzo, which soon follows, not 
only re-awakens strife, but also points out the manner 
of the ultimate reconciliation. By this marriage of 
Jew and Christian the dramatist announces his belief 
in the fundamental oneness of the two races, and sug- 
gests that love can reconcile all their conflicts. Love 
leaps all barriers. Even the conflict of Christian and 
Jew is not due to any primary antagonism in human 
nature, but to prejudices and accidental diff^erences. 
Shylock and Antonio are not natural enemies, and 
need only the gift of love to overcome their diff^erences. 
The dramatist, as in the case of RoTiieo and Juliet, sets 
out to reconcile the apparently irreconcilable. Know- 
ing the heart of man as no other writer of all time 
he is the one that has most faith in human nature. 

Shylock's pretence of reconciliation appears in its 
true light when the time draws near for Antonio to 
pay the loan. The reported loss of all Antonio's ships 
gives Shylock an excuse to clamor for his money. 



164 Hamlet, an Ideal Prinee 

When he finds the merchant cannot pay, denying all 
pleas for an extension of time, he causes him to be 
arrested, and appeals to the Court for permission to 
collect the forfeit of his bond, ''a pound of flesh." 
With this his real purpose of taking the life of some 
of his enemies is revealed. The Christians had never 
really trusted Shylock, in spite of his apjoarent readi- 
ness to forget the past and be friends. But they had 
felt secure in the many ships Antonio had upon the 
seas, for if even one came home in time they could 
discharge the loan, and, as Antonio assured Bassanio, 
they were all due '*a month before the day." In the 
calamitous failure of all the ships, however, Shylock 
found his opportunity to revenge his "ancient grudge" 
upon Antonio. 

In the failure of all Antonio's ships and in his 
consequent inability to meet the bond, Shylock finds 
his opportunity. After the arrest, he pushes his suit 
with all haste and as speedil}' as possible brings the 
matter before the law. He feels perfect confidence in 
the validity of his bond, and awaits only the verdict of 
the court to cut off his pound of flesh and take the 
life of the hated Antonio. But as an alien he did not 
thoroughly understand the law of the dramatist's 
Venice, and did not comprehend its moral principles. 

VI 

The Trial Scene, deservedly one of the most popu- 
lar in Shakespeare, is also one of the deepest and fullest 
in meaning. Into this scene the dramatist has con- 
densed all his thought on the great contest of Chris- 
tianitj' and Judaism, which through all the centuries 
has remained unsettled. It is needless to say that 



The Merchant of Venice 155 

Shakespeare does not treat these religions as dogmatic 
systems of theology — with which a dramatist has noth- 
ing to do — but as practical systems or codes of moral 
principles. His interest is in their moral and spiritual 
values, and it is only as such that they are on trial in 
the Court Scene. 

In the Trial which Shylock has invoked we begin to 
feel sure that the conflict between the two men is no 
longer a mere personal matter, but has become a 
conflict of their religions and of the methods of business 
that have grown out of their religions. Shylock would 
seem now to regard himself as the representative and 
avenger of his people, and takes upon himself the 
burden of avenging the centuries of cruelty and scorn 
that had been heaped upon his people. He very gladly 
assumes this role of representative, and gloats over the 
opportunity of "bettering the instruction" of the 
Christians. As Antonio likewise considered himself the 
representative of the Christians in the dealings with 
the Jew, both men are representative of their races, 
of their religions, and of their mutual animosities. 
They represent, then, not only the personal attitudes 
of two men of diff*erent religions, but the religions 
themselves. By appealing to the Court Shylock has 
made real the conflict of the two religions, and has 
made comparison inevitable. But with that insight 
which is always his chief characteristic, Shakespeare 
has contrived a situation in which it is not the dog- 
matic theologies of the two religions that come to trial, 
but their practical systems and codes of moral prin- 
ciples. It is only the moral and spiritual values of 
the two religions that are brought to trial in the Court 
Scene. 

Shylock's refusal to accept the full amount of the 



156 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prince 

bond when proffered him in Court reveals a thirst for 
revenge and not a mere desire for justice, as he pre- 
tends. The unworthiness of his motive is further dis- 
closed when he declines twice the amount, and then 
thrice, with the same unhesitating scornfulness. H« 
steadfastly declines all but the forfeiture, the pound of 
flesh, to be cut off, as he says, "nearest the merchant's 
heart." He is bent on having the penalty and forfeit 
of his bond, for with that must go the life of Antonio, 
for whom he acknowledges "a lodged hate and a certain 
loathing." 

Every conceivable inducement was brought to bear 
upos- Shylock to extend mercy to Antonio, and not to 
push his bond to the point of claiming the forfeiture. 
The first speech of the Duke after Shylock entered the 
Court was a plea for him to show "human gentleness 
and love." Portia likewise, whom the successful cul- 
mination of the love story of the caskets had provided 
as a champion for Antonio, begs him to "be merci- 
ful." In her fine speech on "the quality of mercy" she 
vainly urges upon the Jew the necessity of mercy 
between man and man, as between God and man. She 
discloses the limitations of justice as a rule of life by 
citing the fact that it cannot be universally adopted. 
We all need to receive mercy, she nobly says, for "in 
the course of justice, none of us should see salva- 
tion." She further presses upon him the petitions of 
the Christian prayer which teaches us when we pray 
for mercy to render also the deeds of mercy. All 
these admonitions Shylock impatiently repudiates, ex- 
cl.'iiniing: 

"My deeds upon my head, I crave the hiw. 
The penalty and forfeit of mv bond/' 

(IV. i. 216-7.) 



The Merchant of Venice 15T 

He stands firm upon the law of justice, thinking him- 
self on safe ground, for as he had earlier said, "What 
judgment shall I fear, doing no wrong?" The drama 
becomes now a study of the adequacy of Justice and 
Mercy as rival principles for the government of human 
relations. These two principles, then, are brought to 
trial in the play, the former as the moral principle of 
Judaism, and the latter as the moral principle of 
Christianity. 

These two religions had been similarly interpreted 
by Christ in the Sermon on the Mount : "Ye have heard 
that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth 
for a tooth: But I say unto you. That ye resist not 
evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, 
turn to him the other also." Justice, or the principle 
of "an eye for an eye," is denounced as a principle oi' 
life; and Mercy, or giving more than you must, is 
substituted. Life is larger than law, and morality 
than legality. This has long been recognized, as in the 
old expression, summun jus, summa injuria. 

The two contestants are not to be understood as 
personal embodiments of the principles they represent. 
Shylock had not been throughout his life all for justice 
nor Antonio all for mercy. The Jew had been better 
than his law and the Christian worse than his. But 
they have professed these principles, and have in ex- 
tremities made their appeals to them. Hence, it is the 
principles as well as the men that are on trial. The 
play, then, develops from a conflict of persons to a 
contest of representative individuals, each standing for 
the ideal of the religion he professes. Portia's elo- 
quent contrast of Justice and Mercy, and the final de- 
feat of Shylock, can only be understood as the drama- 
tist's declaration in favor of the principle of Mercy, 



158 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

or a verdict for the Christian ethics. 

The persistent refusal of Shylock to yield to these 
strong entreaties serves to draw out the many re- 
sources of Portia in her effort to save her husband's 
friend. The Court cannot compel mercy, for it is a 
principle of conduct, not of law. Herein is shown the 
limitation of "law" as an expression of ethical prin- 
ciples. The decision of the Court must be strictly 
legal, and judgment is pronounced in favor of Shylock. 
He is at once reminded, however, by Portia that his 
bond calls for only "flesh" ; and he is informed that if 
he shed "one drop of Christian blood" his lands and 
goods will be "confiscate unto the State of Venice." 
Again, he is told that if he takes more than just a 
pound of flesh, he must himself die, since his bond calls 
for "a just pound," no more and no less. Further, he 
is told that because he has contrived against the life 
of a citizen he has forfeited his own life, which lies 
now at the mercy of the Duke only. 

At this juncture the Christian principle of mercy 

that Shylock has scornfully rejected as a guide to his 

own conduct comes to his rescue and intervenes to save 

his life. His extreme predicament instantly humbles 

his proud spirit, and the Duke at once seizes the 

opportunity to say, 

"That thou shalt see the diflference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it." 

(IV. i. 385-6.) 

Shylock as quickly avails himself of the interposition 
of the principle he had so recently scorned, and his 
life is saved. But in accepting the mercy of the Duke, 
the Jew tacitly acknowledges the complete defeat of his 
own principle as a moral code. He was conscientious, 
however, in holding to his code until he saw it de- 



The Merchant of Venice 159 

stroyed. His principle had had a most severe test, 
and its failure disclosed its defects and the superiority 
of its rival. 



VII 

Much criticism has been offered upon Shakespeare's 
conduct of the Court Scene, as it seems entirely out of 
accord with English practice and English legal pro- 
cedure. Neither judge, nor plaintiff, nor defendant, 
nor counsel, seem to conduct themselves as in an Eng- 
lish court, and the verdict seems a travesty of justice. 
The judge seems to be counsel for the defense, the 
plaintiff seems to be his own counsel, and the counsel 
for the defendant seems to pass the judgment of the 
Court. This seeming irregularity continued to be con- 
fusing and at times disconcerting to critics, until 1886, 
when, in a letter to The Overland Monthly, Mr. John 
T. Doyle made it known that the procedure of the 
Court of Venice was the same as had survived to that 
day in some of the Latin Republics of South America. 
Mr. Doyle relates at some length his experience in 
the law courts of Nicaragua, and then says : "With 
this experience, I read the case of Shylock over again, 
and understood it better. It was plain that the sort 
of procedure Shakespeare had in view, and attributed 
to the Venetian court, was exactly that of my recent 
experience. The Trial Scene opens on the day ap- 
pointed for hearing judgment; the facts had been 
ascertained at a previous session, and Bellario had been 
selected as the jurist to determine the law applicable 
to them. The case had been submitted to liim in writ- 
ing, and the Court was awaiting his decision. The 
defendant, when the case is called, answers as is done 



160 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

daily in our own courts : 'Ready, so please your 
Grace.' '' Continuing, Mr. Doyle draws the parallel 
still further between tlie two cases, in the matter of 
procedure, making it quite clear that Shakespeare was 
following a well-known and established form of pro- 
cedure, and not devising one of his own. It is the 
usual thing to find at last that Shakespeare does not 
need to be rewritten, but only to be understood.^ 

A much more serious charge is made against the 
dramatist, however, when it is asserted that in the 
Trial Scene the law is perverted in favor of Antonio 
and to the discomfiture of Shylock. It has been held 
by Campbell and others that Portia's interpretation of 
the law is nothing but a legal quibble, and that Shy- 
lock is condemned only on a perverted construction of 
a plain contract. Any court, it is said, would grant 
whatever is necessarily and inseparably connected with 
a main judgment rendered. If blood is unavoidably 
shed in cutting out a pound of flesh, then any court 
that would permit flesh to be taken would also allow 
blood to be shed. If, for instance, a man buys a 
number of loads of gravel from his neighbor, he is 
allowed to leave a hole in his neighbor's field, even if 
that neighbor should some day kill himself by falling 
into it. The English law of Shakespeare's day, and 
for a long time afterwards, permitted debtors to be 
put to death for non-payment. Shylock, then, it is 
said, should have been allowed to claim the penalty 
of his bond, with all that pertained thereto. To deny 
him this was to wrest the law from its course, and to 

* For Mr. Doyle's article, entitled "Shakespeare's Law — The 
Case of Shylock,'' cf. The Overland Monthly, for July, 1886. 
For a summary of the article, cf, Furness's Variorum Edition of 
The Merchant of Venice, pp. 417-420. 



The Merchant of Venice 161 

bend it to the peril of Shylock — and all because he 
was a Jew.-^ 

This phase of the case has been most ably and fully 
treated by Judge Nathaniel Holmes, in The Western 
Galaxy for April, 1888, a paper that has escaped not 
only the keen eye of Dr. Furness, but most of the other 
critics of Shakespeare as well. By ample quotations 
Judge Holmes shows that Shakespeare conducted the 
legal phase of the Trial Scene in strict accordance with 
the theory and practice of English law, which always 
considered the equity as well as the strict law in a 
case. In a case of the year 1615, about twenty years 
after Shakespeare's play, cited by Judge Holmes, the 
King's speech, prepared by the Attorney General, Sir 
Francis Bacon, expressly declares in a comparison of 
the English with other courts of law, that "it [the 
English] exceeds the other courts, mixing mercy with 
justice, where the other courts proceed only according 
to strict rules of law; and where the rigour of the 
law in many cases will undo a subject, then the Chan- 
cery tempers the law with equity, and so mixeth mercy 
with justice as it preserves men from destruction," — 
the very legal doctrine enunciated by Portia in her 
great speech on "the quality of mercy." It becomes 
clear from this that while the dramatist followed the 
Latin form of procedure as would be expected in a 
Venetian court, he nevertheless intended to settle the 
case of "Shylock versus Antonio" in strict accordance 
with the theory of English law and with the spirit 

* Cf. Campbell, quoted by Furness, p. 405. By way of answer 
to this criticism Professor Moulton remarks that "the suitor who 
rests his cause on a whim cannot complain if it is upset by a 
quibble." (Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist.) But this does 
not meet the issue, for Shylock did not rest his cause on a whim, 
and Portia did not upset it on a quibble. 



162 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

of English practice, by tempering justice with merc3^ 
The poet apparently conceived his Christian and moral 
principle of "mercy" to be nothing but the English 
legal principle of "equity" in another form.-^ 

It cannot, therefore, be claimed that the verdict of 
the court was technically unsound, but only that it 
introduced the principle of equity, apparently unknown 
in Venetian law, but with which Shakespeare was quite 
familiar in English law. This worked no injustice to 
Shylock, and in no way injured his case, for if it was 
invoked in the first instance to save the life of Antonio, 
it was also later invoked to save his own. The appli- 
cation cannot be claimed as wholly in favor of Antonio, 
for in both instances alike the law was set aside by the 
law, in the larger interests of equity. Shakespeare, 
in accordance with English legal theory, recognizes 
that the law is always in danger from itself, and that 
the law must ideally be made to work out the Right, 
even if in so doing it discredits itself. In his dramatic 
world, at least, Shakespeare is free to show that mercy 
is of more moment than legality, for it is an ethical 
demand. 

Shylock, therefore, in the play suffers no injustice, 
for he had been offered his principal, together with 
twice the amount for any damage he might have sus- 
tained from the delay. In the face of his refusal to 
accept this proffered payment of his bond, together 
with twice the amount as penalty, no further or no 
other penalty could be legally or justly demanded. 
The pound of flesh was only a penalty for non-pay- 
ment, and could not be demanded in place of the prof- 

^"Shylock's Case," by Judge Nathaniel Holmes, in The West- 
ern Galaxy, published in Salt Lake City, Vol. I, No. 2, pp. 909- 
917, April, 1888. 



The Merchant of Venice 163 

fered money. As Judge Holmes remarks, ''By the 
strict rule of common law, the day of payment having 
passed, the bond was forfeited, and the penalty was 
due ; but by English equity the penalty was regarded 
as a security, and when the party was ready to pay 
the principal, with interest by way of compensation 
for the delay, the plaintiff was bound to take it, or 
have nothing: the defendant was relieved against the 
penalty only." ^ 

By this law, if this were all, Shylock might yet have 
his principal, and end the case. He therefore says, 
"Give me my principal and let me go." But that was 
not all the law. Having invoked justice and the law, 
he must abide by the law to the end. He cannot re- 
ject the instrument he has invoked, as soon as he finds 
it reacting against him. It is the privilege of the 
defendant to hold to the umpire chosen, and Portia 
proceeds to call up other laws of which Shylock seems 
to have been ignorant. She shows that by the law 
Shylock's attempts on Antonio's life have made his own 
life forfeit. She does not, however, press this law to 
his undoing, but immediately invokes in Shylock's be- 
half the same principle of equity, or mercy, by which 
she had previously saved Antonio. According to the 
law, the matter now lies with the Duke, and he at once 
pardons Shylock's life before he asks it, thereby show- 
ing, as he says, "the difference of our spirit." By this 
he means that he will show the Christian spirit in 
dealing with the Jew. 

It is Antonio, however, who exacts what has seemed 
to many the hardest conditions. The same law that 
made Shylock's life forfeit also gives to Antonio half 
of Shylock's goods. Part of these Antonio at once 

^"Shylock's Case," p. 211. 



164 Hamlet, (in Ideal Prince 

restores to him on condition that he immediately be- 
come a Christian, — the hardest of all things for Shy- 
lock. It means that he must renounce not only his 
Jewish faith, but also his methods of business, for 
usury was forbidden by both Christian belief and 
practice. This condition, it should be remembered, 
was not in the original stor}^ but was added by Shake- 
speare himself. It was the dramatist who demanded 
that "He presentlj^ become a Christian." This has 
been considered verj' unjust, and as Ten Brink says, 
"It is only aofainst his beinc: forced to become a con- 
vert that our feelings justly rebel." ^ Yet it was a 
common enough occurrence in those days to compel 
Jews to become Christians, and by adopting it the 
dramatist indicates that under the conditions Shylock 
might fairh' be called upon to accept baptism. To 
this the Jew feebly consents, and at once requests 
permission to leave the court, alleging only, "I am not 
well." The illness was, of course, in his spirit, and 
was caused by his complete discomfiture in his suit 
against Antonio. The demand to become a Christian 
had been the last straw to break his spirit, and he left 
the court in humble submission. This has been con- 
sidered the crowning injustice of a very unjust trial, 
but as Shylock preferred it to the law he had invoked 
and to the loss of his life, it need not be regarded as 
completely intolerable.' 

A great deal of S3'mpathy has been wasted upon 
Shj'lock by two classes of people. One of these always 
sj-mpathizes with the vanquished, whether victim or 
criminal, and the other class has overlooked some of 

^Five Lectures on Shakespeare, by Ten Brink; Eng. trans, 
by Julia Franklin, p. 190; New York, Holt, 1895. 



The Merchant of Venice 165 

the elements in the situation.^ It should be kept in 
mind that the Christians were face to face with a very 
difficult problem. One of their number had been in 
danger from a Jew who had tried as a penalty for a 
loan to take the Christian's life. It was now fully real- 
ized that Shylock was trying to "feed fat the ancient 
grudge" he bore Antonio. The reason of this grudge 
was also now seen to be chiefly the fact that in lending 
out money gratis, according to the Christian principle 
and practice in the matter, Antonio had incurred the 
implacable hatred of Shylock^ the money-lender. The 
Court had turned the tables on the Jew, who had saved 
his life only by accepting from the Christians the very 
mercy that he had been so unwilling to give. 

It was but natural, then, that the Christians should 
demand some guarantee from Shylock that the next 
time he got Antonio or any other Christian in his 
danger he would show the same mercy that was now 
saving his own life. It was simply a measure of self- 
defence. If mercy is a good thing to get, it is an equally 
good thing to give. It is not fair to run with the 
hare and hunt with the hounds. If Shylock is now to 
benefit by the Christian principle of mercy, it must 
be on the condition that in future ca.'ses he will also 
give the same benefit to others. There is a golden 
rule even for Jews. If he repudiates the justice of 
Judaism and accepts the mercy of Christianity, in 
order to save his own life, he must give assurance 
that he will remain a Christian, and in all future con- 
flicts will bestow the "mercy" of Christianity. He 
cannot be a Christian in accepting mercy, and turn 
round and be a Jew in demanding justice. He must be 
either all Jew or all Christian, and he must now take 

* Cf. Braiides, oj). cit. p. 165. 



166 Hamlet, an Idcul Prince 

his choice once and for all. 

The only way that niedianal Christians could see 
to accomplish this purpose was to demand of Shylock 
that he formally accept baptism. It is very true that 
to us there might be other ways of drawing the fangs 
of Shylock and of guaranteeing consistency, but to 
them there was no other wa3^ They knew of only 
two creeds, two religions, and two moral codes, — 
the Jewish and the Christian. They did not dis- 
tinguish between the creed and the ethics of Christian- 
ity, and to assure themselves that Shylock should 
adopt the practice of Christianity, they compelled him 
to accept its creeds and its forms. As a guarantee 
that henceforth Shylock should live according to their 
principles, they obliged him to be baptized. Antonio 
was certainly justified in putting Shylock under bonds 
to be more merciful the next time he had a Christian 
in his power; and the only way he knew to accomplish 
this was to require him formally to become a Christian. 
And this is also sufficient justification for the dramatist. 

The closing words of Judge Holmes, in the article 
previously cited, seem appropriate at this point: "And, 
on the whole, we have a strong conviction that the 
imaginary Jew of the Middle Ages (as the mythical 
type of him had become fixed in the popular mind of 
that age), not merely as Jew, but as another name for 
the unconscionable usurer and soulless money-getter of 
all sects and ages, really got his deserts from first to 
last at the hands of both judge and poet, and that 
the ideal judge intended to teach the ideal Jew that 
there was in the poet's Venice both law and equity, 
that strict law was not always justice, and that it 
was better for all men to season justice with mercy 
than to contrive a wicked fraud, in a relentless spirit 



The Merchant of Venice 167 

of revenge, against an unsuspecting debtor, under pre- 
tence of kindness and under cover of getting a security, 
but really intending to take his life under color of 
law, but contrary to law, justice and mercy — as the 
Duke said — 

. *A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, 
Uncapable of pity, void, and empty 
From any dram of mercy. ' " 

(IV. i. 6-8.) 



vni 

The fifth act of the play has been generally mis- 
understood. These words from Brandes fairly ex- 
press the common mistake: "Shylock disappears with 
the end of the fourth act in order that no discord may 
mar the harmony of the concluding scenes. By means 
of his fifth act, Shakespeare dissipates any preponder- 
ance of pain and gloom in the general impression of 
the play." ^ Rather, as The Merchant of Venice is 
primarily the story of Antonio and his friends, 
it was necessary for the dramatist to present clearly 
the completed love of Bassanio and Portia that had 
been the means of the triumph of Antonio in the Trial 
Scene. In blending the two stories of the Caskets and 
the Bond the dramatist had undertaken to work out 
a better and larger purpose for love than was con- 
tained in the old story. In the fourth act love had 
triumphed in Portia's deliverance of Antonio, and with 
the close of this act the play passes beyond tlic point 
of highest passion. But the beautiful and harmonious 
fifth act is necessary to complete the meaning of the 
play as a whole, by depicting the culmination of all 
the love stories of the earlier part. 
^Oj). cit. p. 167. 



168 Harrdet, an Ideal Prince 

The success of Bassanio's quest for Portia's love 
had pro^'ided a champion for his sorely pressed friend 
and bondsman, Antonio, and had become the means 
whereby he was released from impending death through 
the forfeiture of his bond. The legal skill of Bassa- 
nio's wife has repaid many times the value of the money 
Antonio had expended on fitting out the expedition 
to Belmont. Portia's love for her husband had urged 
her to come to the rescue of his friend and had inspired 
her to use her best endeavors on his behalf. 

Shakespeare, therefore, was not content to close the 
story of Bassanio and Portia without depicting their 
completed love after the trying time of the Trial Scene. 
To him love exists not for its enjoyment or its beauty, 
but for its moral and spiritual value and for its social 
uses. After portraying, then, with exquisite taste 
the beautiful Caskets Scene and showing the self-aban- 
doning love of Bassanio for the fair Portia, he left the 
love story until he had depicted the triumph of love 
in Portia's efforts in behalf of her husband's friend 
in his danger from Shvlock. 

But now that love has discharged its function in the 
rescue of Antonio and even in the sparing of the life 
of Shylock, the dramatist once more returns to the love 
story and gives us pictures of the happiness of the lov- 
ers themselves. The exquisite moonlight scene depicts 
the perfect love and happiness of Lorenzo and his 
lovely Jessica, and the beautiful comedy of the rings 
reveals in a most striking manner the noble part of 
Portia in the release of Antonio. Nothing could have 
served more admirably to enhance Bassanio's love for 
Portia, or to assure him that his love was fully recip- 
rocated. The element of romance in their love has been 
absorbed into the great reality of complete devotion 



The Merchant of Venice 169 

in a very great emergency. Their love has now been 
tried and been found true. These delightful scenes of 
the fifth act, then, are not only welcome distractions, 
as Professor Raleigh says, but are necessary to the 
completion of the love stories of the earlier part of 
the play. 

This happy culmination of all the stories of the play 
seems to be an attempt of the dramatist to depict his 
conception that love is the true and indeed the only 
reconciler of all our human conflicts. Love has solved 
all the conflicts of the play. The love of Bassanio and 
Portia and their united love for Antonio, on the one 
hand, and the love of Lorenzo and Jessica, on the other, 
suggest that all such conflicts may be reconciled un- 
der the sweet and holy influences of love. Many of the 
diff*erences among men are due to misunderstandings, 
not to inherent antagonisms, and may be overcome by 
love. This conclusion of the play, then, presents as do 
all the closing scenes of Shakespeare's plays a full and 
final solution of the conflict of the drama. 



OTHELLO: 



THE TRAGEDY OF A MOOR IN VENICE 



CHAPTER IV 
OTHELLO: 



THE TRAGEDY OF A MOOR IN VENICE 



FEW of the plays of Shakespeare have from the 
first excited more intense interest among both 
theatre-goers and readers than the sad story of 
Othello and his life in Venice. The nature of the 
Moor's difficulties and the deep pathos of his catastro- 
phe have brought the play closer to the lives and bos- 
oms of men than any other of the great tragedies. The 
general excellence of the character of Othello, the noble 
Moor, and of Desdemona, the fair maid of Venice, to- 
gether with the distressing nature of their marital con- 
flict have made Othello the most heart-rending and the 
most moving of all the tragedies of Shakespeare. Many 
persons who can observe with comparative calmness the 
awful conflict of aged father and ungrateful, ambi- 
tious daughters in King Lear are almost overcome by 
the appalling sadness of Othello's mistrust and murder 
of his young and beautiful wife. The passion of Othel- 
lo seems more titanic, and the conflict more vital and 
elemental than that of King Lear. The ruin of filial 
relationships seems less a tragedy than the overthrow 
and failure of the marital relationship, and tlie fate 
that befalls Desdemona even less deserved than that 
which befalls Cordelia. Professor Bradley has truly 

173 



174 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

said, "There is no subject more exciting than sexual 
jealousy rising to the pitch of passion; and there can 
hardly be any spectacle at once so engrossing and so 
painful as that of a great nature suffering the torment 
of this passion, and driven by it to a crime which is 
also a hideous blunder." ^ 

While all have been impressed by the deep and ab- 
sorbing passion of the play, it has not always been for 
the same reason. Shocked as all have been by the awful 
catastrophe, the real nature of the conflict and of the 
outcome has been variously interpreted. The very 
intensity of the passion has doubtless confused our 
notions, and sympathy and horror have often taken the 
place of careful study and clear thinking. Admiration 
for the "noble Moor," compassion for the "divine Des- 
demona," and scorn for the intriguing lago, have mis- 
guided our judgments, have obscured the story of the 
play and the very words that should reveal the true 
character and actual deeds of the persons. In some 
cases both artistic sensibility and moral judgment have 
been paralyzed, until Othello has become a perfect 
hero, Desdemona a spotless saint, and poor lago a 
fiend incarnate. Instead of appreciating the play as 
it is written, and perceiving the informing thought of 
the dramatist, this emotional criticism has made the 
injurer noble, his chief victim a saint, the injured a 
devil, and Shakespeare — foolish. 

Othello has doubtless been very difficult of interpre- 
tation. More than half a century ago the Edinburgh 
Review (1850) expressed only the truth when it said 
that "all critics of name have been perplexed by the 
moral enigma which lies under this tragic tale." Since 

* Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 177-8. London, 2nd edition, 1905. 



Othello 175 

these words were written the opinion has become all but 
universal that it is the moral aspects of the play that 
have made it difficult to understand. The passing 
years, moreover, have forced the conviction upon many 
students that as the enigma of this play, and of many 
others, is ^^moral," so the true interpretation must like- 
wise be "moral." The solution of a play that is a 
'^moral enigma" must come if it comes at all from a so- 
lution of the moral aspects of the play, which can be 
reached only by a due consideration of all the moral 
relations of the various persons of the drama. And 
while it must be admitted that no expositions thus far 
have proven entirely satisfactory, the many earnest 
attempts to unravel the "moral enigma" mark the only 
successes up to the present time that criticism has 
made with this most fascinating drama. 

There is no external source from which we can learn 
Shakespeare's dramatic purpose, and we can only infer 
it as we see it unfolded in his plays. Like all the 
dramatists up to his time he let his plays speak for 
themselves, and unlike many later dramatists he left 
no word of comment or explanation. The dedications 
of Jonson, and the prefaces of Dryden and others have 
served to disclose their dramatic purposes and even to 
interpret their dramas. But Shakespeare has left us 
no dedications and no prefaces. If he has revealed 
anywhere his conception of the function of the drama 
it is in Hamlet's directions to the players, and these do 
not help us in the interpretation of any particular 
play. Whether Shakespeare shared the opinion of 
most other English dramatists and critics of his time 
that the drama should not only please but profit the 
audience we cannot know directly. Three centuries 
of study have not yet made clear his attitude toward 



176 Hamlet y an Ideal Prince 

the principle of "poetic justice," as the moral aspects 
of the drama came later to be called. To this day the 
discussion has gone on, and many students are inclined 
to tliink that in Othello and other plays he has ignored 
this principle altogether.^ 
fin the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when 
criticism was almost entirely didactic, it was all but 
unanimously agreed that Shakespeare paid no atten- 
tion to moral subjects or to ethical forces. The bur- 
den of the critics from Rj^mer to Johnson was that 
Shakespeare had violated all our fundamental notions 
of "poetic justice," or in other words had paid no 
attention whatsoever to moral considerations. In his 
discussion of this subject Rymer chose Othello, as Pro- 
fessor Aldcn has recently said, "to show the extreme 
results. of neglecting this principle, on the part of the 
more or less barbarous Elizabethans. What unnatural 
crime had Desdemona committed to bring such judg- 
ment upon her.^" Rymer's own words are very strong: 
"What instruction can be made out of this catastro- 
phe.^ . . . How can it work, unless to delude our 
senses, disorder our thought, addle our brain, pervert 
our affections, corrupt our appetite, and fill our head 
with vanity, confusion, tintamarre, and jingle-jan- 
gle.^" ^JThe same opinion was still held in the time of 
Dr. Jonnson, nearly a century later. In the preface 
to his edition of Shakespeare Johnson saj^s : "His first 
defect is that . . . he sacrifices virtue to convenience, 
and is so much more careful to please than to instruct, 
that he seems to write without any moral purpose . . . 

^Cf. Quinlan, Poetic Justice in the Drama: The History of 
an EtWchl Principle in Litera^ry Criticism, University Press, 
Notre Dame, Indiana, U. S. A., 1912. 

^Cf, Professor R. M. Alden, "The Decline of Poetic Jus- 
tice," Atlantic Monthly, February, 1910, pp. 260-7. 



Othello 177 

he makes no just distribution of good and evil, nor is 
always careful to show in the virtuous a disapproba- 
tion of the wicked. . . ." 

These critics are in substantial agreement with all 
other English criticism, whether applied directly to 
Shakespeare or not, in their demand that the drama 
should not violate our fundamental moral notions. The 
history of the principle of "poetic justice" in English 
criticism shows that English thought has always ap- 
plied itself to the more ethical phases of the drama, 
but we shall find that the classical and formal concep- 
tions of the principle held in the seventeenth and eight- 
eenth centuries were hopelessly inadequate for the liv- 
ing and romantic Elizabethan drama. The criticism as 
well as the drama of that period falls far short of 
dealing adequately with large and living conceptions, 
and when they attempted to interpret Shakespeare 
their limitations became very apparent. The classical 
period was utterly unable to deal with any dramatist at 
once so large and so vital as Shakespeare. 

In the nineteenth century there arose a generation 
of romantic critics who knew not the classicists of the 
ages of Rymer and Johnson. These equally with the 
earlier critics demanded that Shakespeare should 
square himself with our moral conceptions, but they 
had outlived the formalism of their predecessors and 
had learned to look in other places for Shakespeare's 
"poetic justice." Actuated with the stubborn notion 
that his moral conceptions were not to be found in ex- 
plicit utterance, or in didactic phrase, they began to 
look for an implicit morality in the construction and 
conduct of the narratives of the plays, and in so doing 
opened up the most fruitful of all eras of Shakespeare 
study. 



i 



i 



178 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

The first of this long line of able critics was Cole- 
ridge, with whom as a recent writer has said, "Rational 
appreciation mav be said to beoin in England/' ^ It 
was a vast step forward in criticism when this great 
man. poet and critic in one, laid aside the idea that 
Shakespeare was in need either of revision or criticism, 
and inaugurated the modem attempt at interpretation. 
Though succeeding ages have found plenty of reason 
for dissenting from many of his opinions we have never 
really departed from his method of interpretation. 

In his study of OtheUo. as of other plays, Coleridge 
made a diligent search for the dramatic motive, and 
tried to find out the underiying reason for the catastro- 
phe that had puzzled earlier critics. Instead of trying 
to show defects in Shakespeare's notions of poetic jus- 
tice, he attempted to find the reason if not the justifi- 
cation for the catastrophe. Carefully surveying the 
play, he reached the conviction that in Othello Shake- 
speare was portraying a man whose misfortunes were 
due to the intrigue of another, and were not intended 
by the dramatist to appear as retribution for any of 
his own misdeeds. In lago and his evil mind Coleridge 
found the sole cause of Othello's tragic end. To lago's 
'•motiveless mali^nitv" must be ascribed, he savs, the 
entire catastrophe. This man is '"a being next to deril, 
and only not quite devfl.'' - It is his evil and jealous 
mind that works all the harm done to OtheUo and his 
wife. 

From this it is clear at any rate that Coleridge saw 
the importance of a right understanding of the rela- 
tions of OtheUo and lago for a proper comprehension 

^Johnson, Shaketpear^ amd His Criiics, p. 18; Hou^itoii, MifSin 
& Co., 1909. 
*L0cimn9 <m Shmkm sp mt n (Bolm*s library), p. 38a 



Othello 179 

and interpretation of the play. It will appear, how- 
ever, as we proceed that Coleridge overlooked some of 
the most important factors in the relations of these 
two, and that he had not shaken ofF entirely the eight- 
eenth century habit of trying to form our own opinion 
of Shakespeare's characters, instead of ascertaining 
the dramatist's opinion. It is of course permissible 
for any one to differ from the dramatist about any of 
his characters, but it is not permissible to substitute 
this opinion for the dramatist's, and then on this basis 
charge the dramatist with being inartistic or with a 
violation of our moral principles. Even less satisfac- 
tory, however, is Coleridge's treatment of the relations 
of Othello and Desdemona, a proper understanding of 
which is all but as important as that of Othello and 
lago. This also v/ill call for the most careful study. 
But, though Coleridge's treatment of these two topics 
has not settled the interpretation of the play, it can 
be freely maintained that the method he adopted is the 
only hopeful method for the interpretation of the 
drama. 



II 

In the matter of Othello and lago, it cannot fairly 
be maintained that lago was the sole cause of the 
calamities that befell Othello. In general it must be 
said that there is no Shakespearean tragedy in which 
the responsibility for the deed of the hero and the sub- 
sequent tragedy can be shifted from him to another 
person of the play. Shakespeare no doubt did not have 
the conception of the influence of social forces that 
some modern dramatists display, for that is a concep- 
tion belonging to the nineteenth cent^M-3\ Professor 



180 Hcnjilet, an Ideal Prince 

Stoll may be correct when he says that "In no case 
does Shakespeare represent men as overwhelmed by 
anything so vague and neutral as social forces," but he 
is surely incorrect when he adds, "or as devoured by 
their own passions alone." ^ Ut is this very conception 
of the consuming and destructive power of passion that 
marks the superiority of Shakespeare's conceptions 
over that of his contemporaries. This "fatalism of 
overmastering passion," as it has been called by Pro- 
fessor Corson,^ is the distinguishing feature of Shake- 
speare's conception of man's relation to the world, and 
marks the culmination of the Elizabethan drama, and 
its superiority to the classig^al drama where men are 
overcome by external fate.^(jn the case of Othello, as 
of all the other tragedies, it is the passion of the hero 
that is the mainspring of all the action of the play that 
finally and certainly destroys the hero'. \ There are two 
or three t3^pes of such passion in Shakespeare, accord- 
ing to their moral character, but all alike give rise to 
the action of the play andjlead the hero to his fat^j 

Beginning, then, with this passion, it is the art of 
Sliakespeare to place his characters under those con- 
ditions that will show the true nature of their passion 
and develop it to its fullness and to its fated end. It 
is one of Shakespeare's supreme excellences that he 
realized that "every man is tempted when he is drawn 
away of his own lusts and enticed," and that every 
man's condemnation comes from the development of 
his own passions. It was under the sway of this con- 
ception that Shakespeare brought Othello into his fatal 
conflict with lago, for this drew from him all the hid- 

^ Cf. "Criminals in Shakespeare and in Science," by E. E. 
Stoll, in Modern PhUolociy, Vol. X, p. 59. 
^ Cf. Corson, Introduction to Shakespeare, Preface. 



Othello 181 

den passion of his nature, (^o make lago the sole cause 
of the tragedy that befell Othello is to seek outside the 
human heart for the causes of human failure! The 
wonder is that Coleridge, philosopher and genius that 
he was, could content himself with an explanation that 
does such violence to a true moral psychology. But 
Coleridge may have had a personal interest in laying 
the blame outside the soul of the one who is overcome 
by weakness or by fate. Othello, like all of Shake- 
speare's plays, is a drama of character, not a drama of 
intrigue. But only a very careful study of the leading 
topics of the play will make this clear. 

The attempt to solve the moral difficulties of Othello 
has never been given up entirely, though quite recently 
two distinguished critics have taken "the moralists" to 
task, and have appeared to think that the chief excel- 
lence of the drama is in its "moral enigma." Professor 
(Sir) Walter Raleigh has made a vigorous attack, and 
says that "The moralists have been eager to lay the 
blame of these events on Othello, or Desdemona, or 
both; but the whole meaning of the play would vanish 
if they were successful." ^ Professor Bradley, in a 
somewhat similar strain, rejects all the more obvious 
interpretations of the play, because, as he says, they 
"reduce Shakespeare to common-place." ^ Both alike 
refuse to give credence to any view that does not make 
Shakespeare subtle and far-fetched and mystical. They 
seem ready to reject alike what is common-place and 
common-sense.^ 

^ Shakespeare, "English Men of Letters," Eversley edition, p. 
269. London, 1909. 

^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 208. 

® Professor Stoll has characterized the Shakespearean criticism 
of Professors Raleigh and Bradley as "the most bewildering 
thing in the world to read, whether taken as a whole or piece 
by piece. Truth is tangled with error, fact with fancy, criticism, 



182 Handet, an Ideal Prince 

The names of these two eminent critics have carried 
more weight in some quarters than their theories have 
deserved, and some students have been too willing to 
give up the search for a true moral interpretation of 
the plaj'S. Others, however, dissatisfied with this com- 
plete moral scepticism of Shakespeare, and with this 
substitution of the critic's fanc}^ for the poet's vision. 
have made attempts to find a larger moral meaning for 
the plays, and have tried to assign some kind of large 
spiritual principles in place of the plain moral prin- 
ciples it was thought necessary to abandon. The sug- 
gestion has been made that in cases like that of Des- 
demona there is owly an apparent defeat and nemesis, 
but that in reality there is a much higher spiritual vin- 
dication, and that the close of the pla^' marks a com- 
plete spiritual triumph in which the human spirit re- 
mains "essentially unconquered." Professor Alden, as 
the latest spokesman of this view, says, "If the love of 
Desdemona had perished in the face of injustice and 
falsehood, then we should have had indeed a chaos of 
spiritual wreckage, a poetical injustice for which no 
mere beauty of form could easily atone. But on the 
contrary there remains in each case, amid the very 
crash and vanishing of all earthly hope, a spirit that 
transcends common humanity as far as its suffering ha- 
transcended common experience, proving anew through 
poetry that the world of the senses is 'inferior to thr 

in short, with poetry, and there is no test at hand to tell or.t 
from the other." *He goes on to say that their confusion is due^ 
to the lack of "the hi'storical spirit/' "Everybody has his own 
Shakespeare, in his own image and after his own heart. A senti- 
ment transforms a feature ... or a sentiment exaggerates the 
beauty and significance of features already there!" E. E. Stoll, 
article on "Anachronism in Shakespeare Criticism," pp. 557-57.3. 
Modern PhUoJoqn. Vol. VII, Xo. 4, April, 1910. 



Othello 183 

soul.' " 1 

This, as criticism, seems somewhat better, for it 
grants our inexorable conviction that Shakespeare is 
after all a moral dramatist, and tries to square himself 
with our moral principles. But, unfortunately, this 
kind of criticism makes a demand of us that no gen- 
eration of theatre-goers or readers has ever been able 
to meet. To picture Othello and Desdemona as in the 
end not failing but actually triumphing, as Professor 
Alden finds himself obliged to maintain, is to think of 
them as in the same class as the suffering Job, and as 
Romeo and Juliet. He says, "If the individual expe- 
rience often seems to be at odds with everything but 
itself ; if Job suffer for no reason such as can be stated 
in general terms ; if Juliet and Romeo are the victims 
of the animosities of their parents ... ; if Desdemona 
dies because her pitiful life has found a number of 
malignantly potent trifles looming so big for the mo- 
ment as to shut from view any source of active jus- 
tice . . ."2 

This, however, it is impossible to admit. The writer 
of "Job" explicitly declares that Job was a righteous 
man, and that his misfortunes were entirely due to the 
malignity of the evil one. Neither were his misfortunes 
of the nature of moral catastrophes, as were those of 
Othello and Desdemona. In Shakespeare, as in the 
Bible, the misfortunes that are objective in their source 
are never. moral in character. Romeo and Juliet were 
undoubtedly "the victims of the animosities of their 
parents," or in other words were the victims of social 
conditions for which they were personally in no way re- 
sponsible. About their misfortunes, however, there is 

* Alden, op. rit., Atlantic Monthly, February, 1910, p. 267. 
' Ibid., p. 267. 



184 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

not the slightest suggestion of retribution, and as Car- 
\j\e long ago observed, their apparent defeat is really a 
moral victory. But it is very different with Othello 
and Desdemona, for there is an element of retribution 
in their misfortunes. The play explicitly depicts 
them as the authors of all the elements of their social 
conditions that give rise to their conflicts and subse- 
quent misfortunes. 

It should be remembered that Othello was not a 
son of Venice, but a foreigner, and moreover a for- 
eigner of a different race and color, with all that 
that means of divergence of mind and character. More- 
over, there was no conflict between Romeo and Juliet, 
for their love was perfect, but the conflict was between 
their united and unwavering love and the hostility of 
their families. In the case of Othello and Desdemona 
the conflict becomes acute and finally fatal between 
husband and wife, and from this the play takes its 
character of a hapless mismarriage. 

All these unsuccessful attempts to understand the 
drama come from long-continued but erroneous habits 
of interpretation. The plays have been treated as if 
they were historical documents and not works of poetic 
imagination. Historical documents have to bo evalu- 
ated by the student, and often parts are judged to 
be unauthentic and hence of little or no value. But 
literary products cannot be treated in this manner, for 
every word of a great poet has been elaborated with 
curious care and is of value to the whole, and cannot 
be ignored. Some critics who regret that we have no ex- 
ternal comments of Shakespeare upon his plays per- 
sistently ignore the numerous comments the drama- 
tist has made within the pla^^s. It must be claimed that 
Shakespeare's dramatic methods are not subtle and 



Othello 185 

elusive, but pre-eminently artistic and open. They are 
indeed so artistic that they have concealed his art, and 
unfortunately have also concealed his mind from us. 
We have steadfastly overlooked even his most obvious 
attempts to make his meaning clear, and have missed 
all his own comments, which are the best keys to his 
plays. We have, moreover, explained away his own 
very plain words, we have ignored his conduct of the 
plot of the dramas, and have refused to accept as part 
of his plan the very issues of the plays themselves that 
he has elaborated with such unequalled skill. No won- 
der if we have begun to think perhaps after all the 
plays have no meaning to be discovered. 

Ill 

Let us begin, then, our study of this play by ob- 
serving very carefully whatever comment Shakespeare 
has made upon it. In the very title, Othello, the Moor 
of Venice, we have the dramatist's comment that the 
play is to be the story of a certain Moor, Othello, who 
had abandoned his native land and had taken up his 
residence and life in the Italian city of Venice. In 
doing this Othello had left his native Africa, or Spain,-^ 
and undertook to live his life in Venice. The Moors of 
both Africa and Spain were looked upon by English- 

^ "Shakespeare, in IV. ii. 257, seems to point to Mauritania as 
the native country of Othello, who is hence to be regarded as 
a Moor in the proper sense of the word, a native of the northern 
coast of Africa, toward the west. . . . Moor, however, it may 
be observed, was used by English writers very extensively, and 
all the dark races seem, by some writers, to be regarded as com- 
prehended under it." Hunter, Neio Illustrations of Shakespeare, 
II, p. 280. Quoted by Furness, the Variorum Othello, p. 390. In 
all probability Shakespeare thought of Othello as from Spain, 
which for long had been inhabited by and under the domination 



186 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

men and other Europeans as barbaric or semi-barbaric, 
while the Venetians were looked upon as the most civ- 
ilized and cultured people of Europe.^ The change 
took Othello among another race of another color, one 
that Shakespeare and most of his countrymen of what- 
ever time considered a much superior race. Now if 
Shakespeare had any aptness in giving titles to his 
plays, and did not add mere idle words, the play must 
be considered "primarily a study of a noble barbarian 
who had become a Christian . . . but who retains be- 
neath the surface the savage passions of his Moorish 
blood . . . and that the last three Acts depict the 
outburst of these original feelings through the thin 
crust of Venetian culture." | This is Professor Brad- 
ley's statement of the vieV which has been held, but 
which he scouts as impossible. His chief argument 
against it, however, is that it is not like Shakespeare, 
adding that "To me it appears hopelessly un-Shake- 

of the Moors. After his sword had been taken from him in the 
last act, Othello says: 

'*I have another weapon in this chamber, 
It is a sword of Spain, the ice brook's temper:" 

(V. ii. 314-5.) 

In Love's Labour's Lost Shakespeare makes the king speak "of 
many a knight: from tawny Spain" (I. i. 184-5). Here he is 
evidently thinking of the "tawny Moor." Cf. Coleridge, Lec- 
tures on Shakespeare (Bohn's Library), pp. 477 and 529. 

^ Hunter's remarks about Venice in his comments upon The 
Merchant of Venice apply equally well to this play: "In perusing 
this play we should keep constantly in mind the ideas which 
prevailed in England in the time of Shakespeare of the magnifi- 
cence of Venice. Now, the name calls up ideas only of glory 
departed — 'Her long life hath reached its final day;' but in the 
age of the poet Venice was gazed on with admiration by the 
people of every country, and by none with more devotion than 
those of England." Quoted by Furness in the Variorum Mer- 
chant of Venice, p. 3. 

^Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 186-7. 



Othello 187 

spearean." Ever since Schlegel's time/ however, this 
has been the generally accepted interpretation of the 
play, though of course there has been disagreement 
about details. But this recent imaginative criticism 
has given us a new Othello, a new Hamlet, and verily 
a new Shakespeare ; and instead of the vision and the 
faculty divine of the great dramatist we have the fan- 
cies of the critics. This criticism has succeeded in 
little, however, but in convincing itself that Shake- 
speare is mystical and modern, that he wrote with a 
very vague notion of what he was doing, and that fre- 
quently in his haphazard manner he misnamed his 
plays. It is now time for criticism to reach the con- 
viction that Shakespeare wrote with a very clear notion 
of what he was aiming at, and not by mere intuition or 
chance. Only if we take this attitude is it possible at 
this day to discern the true thought and intent of his 
dramas. 

The entire drama is Othello's story, though from the 
outset lago takes the initiative, and seems to be the 
protagonist. The situation, however, has been created 
by Othello in every particular, and from this springs 
all the action or rather the reaction of lago. By his 
action, previous to the opening of the play, Othello 
furnished the moti^^e for lago, from which springs all 
his intrigue. It is only under the clever manipulation 
of lago that Othello is put on the defence, from which 
he does not escape until near the close of the play. The 
real conflict of the play, then, is between Othello, with 
whom is joined Desdemona, on the one hand, and lago, 
his ancient, on the other. From the outset, Othello is 
struggling with a situation which he inaugurated before 

* Cy. Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, 
Lecture XXV, Eng. trans, in Bohn's Library. 



188 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

the opening of the play, and which grows more complex 
as the movement develops. 

The first scene of Othello presents a conversation 
between Roderigo, the disappointed suitor of Desde- 
mona, and lago, concerning incidents of which Othello 
is the chief agent. Othello and Desdemona have eloped, 
it seems, leaving Roderigo disappointed and distressed. 
He complains that lago had not forewarned him in 
order that their marriage might have been prevented. 
But lago, though in close touch with Othello, protests 
he did not "dream of such a jnatter," implying that it 
was as much a surprise to him as to any one. For some 
time lago had what he considered good reason for hat- 
ing the Moor, though this latest episode enables him 
for the first time to see through the whole affair. 
Othello's attachment to Desdemona now explains why 
he was passed by and the new appointment of lieutenant 
to Othello was conferred upon Cassio. lago now sus- 
pects that the post was given to Cassio by reason of 
Desdemona's friendship for him, and because he was a 
go-between in the courtship of Othello and Desdemona^ 
For this lago now declares his hatred of the pair, and 
intimates his willingness to join Roderigo in an attempt 
to harass Othello, and if not too late, to prevent his 
marriage.^ 

* Cf. Bodenstedt, referred to in Fiirness, p. 5. 

' Professor Bradley warns us against believing on his sole 
authority "a syllable that lago utters on any subject, including 
himself." {Op. cit., p. 211.) To this Professor Stoll replies: 
"lago is a liar, no doubt, but it is to confound fact with fiction 
and to knock the props from under Shakespeare's dramatic frame- 
work to hold that lago's soliloquies are lies." {Op. cit., p. 561.) 
But in addition to his soliloquies lago's explanation to Roderigo 
of his hatred for Othello must be taken as the truth. It is con- 
ceivable that lago or any other character fictitious or real may 
not be fully conscious of his own motives, but it is scarcely con- 
ceivable that a dramatist, much less the greatest, would make the 



Othello^ 189 

After his usual manner Shakespeare has made the 
opening conflict, that between Othello and lago, the 
chief conflict of the play.^ But this is a conflict be- 
tween two men who had up to this time been the near- 
est and warmest friends, one a great general and the 
other his most trusted officer. There is plenty of evi- 
dence throughout the play that up to this time there 
had been the fullest confidence between the two, and 
both alike were looked upon as men of excellent ability 
and sterling character. Othello was known as a noble 
Moor and had attained the highest military position, 
and therefore must have had the fullest confidence of 
the state and the senate. Every one regarded lago 
also as an upright and noble-minded man, and he had 
earned for himself the epithet of "honest." But all at 
once the "honest" lago becomes the mortal enemy of the 
"noble" Moor. We must then account for this change, 
as upon this change all the development of the play 
depends. This is the play. Shakespeare has appar- 
ently been at pains to show us what lago's attitude 
toward the Moor was, as well as what it is, and the ex- 
planation of the change can be found only in the play 
itself. We must explain it either from the incidents 
of the play or from the words of the play, or from 
both. 

The incidents that take place at the opening of the 
play, at the same time as the change in the attitude of 
lago, are two, the courtship and marriage of Othello 

chief conflict of a play out of a pack of lies and develop it into 
one of the greatest tragedies of literature. The great dramatist 
has no plays that present the defeat of truth at every turn, and 
the final triumph of lies, as this play would then denote. We 
must believe that Shakespeare is not just trifling with great vital 
and moral issues, but trying to understand them. 
^ Cf, Hodell, op. dU 



190 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

and Desdemona, and the promotion of Cassio to the 
position of lieutenant under Othello. The words of 
lago at the opening of the play show that he regards 
the latter as an oft'ence to himself, and therefore makes 
it the ground of his hostility to Othello. He complains 
that Cassio has "had the election," and that, 

"He (in good time) must his [Othello's] Lieutenant be, 
And I (bless the mark) his Moorship's Ancient/' 

(I. i. 34-5.) 

At a later time he comes to see some connection between 
the two incidents, and believes that Cassio got the ap- 
pointment because of an old friendship with Desde- 
mona. and probably because he carried messages be- 
tween Othello and Desdemona during their courtship. 

When Othello had occasion to appoint a lieutenant, 
''Three great ones of the city In personal suit'' ap- 
pealed to him on behalf of lago, only to find that he 
had already chosen Cassio. It appeared to be a matter 
of personal preference only, for he could give no reason 
for the choice of Cassio. This capricious choice lago 
at once took as a very great slight upon him, and 
ri^htlv so. As one of "the usual lunacies," so-called, 
in the interpretation of the play, however. Professor 
Bradley says, '*It has been held, for example, that 
Othello treated lago abominably in preferring Cassio 
to him.'' ^ But the ''lunacy" on this occasion is to 
be charged to Othello in utterly disregarding and 
flouting the principle of preferment that holds in 
military circles more rigorously than perhaps any- 
where else. This is the basis of the complaint of lago, 
and arouses at once his suspicion and bitter resent- 
ment, and soon turns him into an abiding but very 
stealthy enemy. 
^ Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 208. 



Othello 191 

If Othello can be capable of such gross violation of 
all military rules and practices, lago sees that he can 
no longer trust Othello, and that all confidence between 
them has virtually ceased to exist, and no longer can 
he hope for the intimate relationships of former days 
to continue. This rewarding of Cassio with a military 
position because of personal service to himself and Des- 
demona was a most dangerous thing for a general to 
do, and opened up all kinds of possibilities of trouble, 
not only with lago, but with the discipline of all his 
forces. Only the fortune that favors fools could save 
him from disaster. But it was fatal when one of the 
disposition of lago was involved, for it turned him at 
once into an enemy, not only to himself, but to all the 
others connected with the insult, to Desdemona and 
Cassio, linking all three in his plan of revenge. 

Here, then, is an outstanding fact that too few crit- 
ics have even observed, and none have adequately ex- 
plained. At this point in the lives of Othello and lago 
a great change comes over their relations. It cannot 
be too much insisted upon that up to this time they had 
been the warmest and closest friends, and that lago had 
been in fact the confidential officer of Othello. Now 
all at once, for some reason that has not been under- 
stood, lago has been turned into the bitter enemy of his 
old friend, Othello, and as if to mark the importance of 
this for the interpretation of the play, the dramatist 
has chosen this point in their relations for the opening 
scene. But in spite of all that has been observed about 
the importance of Shakespeare's opening scenes for the 
exposition of his dramatic art, little attention has been 
paid to this fact in respect to Othello, The task of the 
critic at present, then, is to discover the cause of this 
great change in the relationships of these two men, 



^^ 



192 HamUt, an hhal Prince 

and from this to trace the further developnient of the 

play- 
Ever since Coleridge it has been the connnon tiling, 
though by no means universal, to attribute the whole 
trouble to the sudden and unmotived malignity of lago, 
or to forget the fact that it has been sudden and unlike 
anything heard of before on the part of lago, and to 
assume only the malignity. Later critics, however, 
have not been able to overlook the emergence of the 
malignity at this time, and have attempted to explain 
it from their own imaginations rather than from the 
words of the play. Professor Bradley may be taken 
as voicing the best that can be said by those who would 
lay all the blame of the tragedy upon lago, but who 
feel they m^st account in some manner for this sudden 
malignity. \Not content with charging lago with the 
evil the play undoubtedly lays upon his shoulders, 
Professor Bradley suggests that lago has always been 
in reality a villain, and has worn his "honesty" only 
as a mask, which now he throws off, revealing suddenly 
the real villain that he is, his true nature. He has 
always been, says Professor Bradley, ''a thoroughly 
bad, cold man, who is at last tempted to let loose the 
forces within him." H But this is sufficiently answered 
for the present if we have succeeded in discovering a 
change of attitude on the part of Othello, due to his 
infatuation with Desdemona, and to the fact that he 
found Cassio very serviceable in his love-making. A 
complete criticism of the assigned motive of lago, and 
an attempt at the elaboration of his real state of mind 
nmst be left until after we have followed the conflict 
through the initial stages, when we shall be better able 
to judge the real merits of the case. 
^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 218. 



Othello 193 

Sufficient reason has been found, however, for declin- 
ing to admit that the drama is the story of the intrigue 
of lago, and as the name would intimate it is the play 
of Othello. There is also now justification for attempt- 
ing to explain the play as in the main the tragedy of 
the Moor in his new home in Venice. In our attempt to 
find the explanation of the tragedy in the hero, as as- 
signed by the dramatist, we seem forced to say that 
now at last, when a crisis comes upon him, the great 
Moorish general, transplanted from the wilds of his 
African or Spanish home into the cultured and refined 
life of Venice, finds himself unable to bear honorably 
all the great responsibilities of his high position and 
his new life. It may be that the dramatist, who was a 
man of peace and had little admiration for the Caesars 
and other great warriors, is here taking his oppor- 
tunity to show how little of the higher virtues dwells 
in great military ability. But the fact that he makes 
Othello a Moor, and so designates him throughout the 
play, must also be accounted for. 

Up to this time Othello had borne himself nobly in 
his adopted state, and had the full confidence of the 
people and the senate, and was universally acknowl- 
edged to be the first soldier of Venice. But at this 
point he fails. For once, and for the first time, he 
allows purely personal considerations to sway him 
from following the established order of preferment in 
the army, and does a great injustice to lago. With no 
reason that he dare give, he appoints a wholly inex- 
perienced man in preference to a tried and proven sol- 
dier who had fought under his own eyes, "At Rhodes, 
at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christen'd and hea- 
then." (I. i. 31-2.) This wliolly unwarranted action 
rightly grieved lago, who took it as a great shght, 



194 Hamhf, an Ideal Prince 

for he believed he was entitled to promotion. It also 
shook his confidence in Othello, and roused in him all 
his force of resentment and turned him into a bitter 
enemy of Othello. 

Thus far in Shakespeare's play there is not so much 
as a hint of the motive assigned to lago in Cinthio's 
novel, the presumed source of the play. The dramatist 
has almost completely changed the point of view of the 
whole story, by inventing an entirely new, and perhaps 
loftier if not better, motive for his lago. On the other 
hand, he transformed the one he found in the story, 
and invented the character of Roderigo to bear that 
vulgar part. Then he invents a second motive for 
lago, and makes him hate Othello also for his supposed 
relations with Emilia. By way of revenge for this 
offence, lago's first impulse is to try to corrupt Des- 
demona, and thus get even with Othello. But how little 
this was his intention is seen by the fact that he never 
seems to have seriously considered it. In place of this, 
however, he has an alternative that becomes his ruling 
motive, to put Othello into a jealousy of Cassio. This 
he thinks will serve to revenge himself on Othello for 
both offences at one blow : 

"And nothing can, or shall content my soul 
Till I am even'd with him, wife, for wife. 
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
At least into a jealousy so strong 
That judgment cannot cure." 

(II. i. 331-5.) 

The two offences with which lago charges Othello are 
both matters of honor, and mark phases of Othello's 
inability to sustain the new and exalted life of his 
adopted country. He was quite equal to the task of 
maintaining his military, or semi-barbaric, relations 



Othello 195 

to the state, and rose to the highest command in 
Venice. But in matters of personal honor he is not 
above reproach, and in his obtuseness offends lago in 
two ways. Some critics think it is because of such 
offences as that with Emilia that Othello is unable to 
maintain an undisturbed married relationship with his 
refined and delicate Venetian bride. But his guilt is 
left very doubtful by the play, and therefore this con- 
clusion is unwarranted. It is sufficient to observe, how- 
ever, that the clear-headed lago perceives this to be 
his most vulnerable point, and by enlisting the dupe, 
Roderigo, attacks him where he is weakest. 

lago's dominating personality quicklj^ subjects 
Roderigo to his schemes, and makes him a willing agent 
in his revenge. The first thing they do is to rouse up 
Brabantio, and under his leadership institute a search 
for the eloping pair. Shakespeare has here greatly 
enlarged and dignified the meaning of his play by mak- 
ing Roderigo, and not lago, the disappointed suitor of 
Desdemona. lago is thus reserved for the more tragic 
passion, and Roderigo bears the baser motives, and at 
the same time supplies the needed money, and helps 
to carry out the intrigues of the crafty ancient. Their 
joint appeal to Brabantio will be the best possible plan 
of attack on Othello, as it will show Othello in opposi- 
tion to the law and to a senator of the state. lago 
wishes at first only to plague Othello with flies, but the 
sick fool, Roderigo, stupidly hopes still to become the 
accepted lover of Desdemona. 

lago sees it is quite out of the question to enter upon 
a course of open hostility and revenge against liis 
General, and the appearance of friendliness will better 
serve his purpose. His inferior position compels him 
to play the hypocrite, and appear to continue faithful 



196 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

to Othello. But this very position enables him the 
better to work out his purpose, which is not to destroy 
Othello, but only to disturb his relations with Desde- 
mona, and to put him into an agony of jealousy. lago 
does not fully understand the fierce nature of Othello, 
and does not appear at first to foresee the terrible ex- 
tremes to which his barbaric and ungovernable passion 
v^^ill drive him. He realizes that he must at no time be 
found in a position "Against the Moor" (I. i. 162), and 
therefore separates himself from Roderigo, and hastens 
to join himself to Othello, in order to appear on his 
side in the ensuing disturbance. 



IV 



It is at this point that the second of the great 
problems of the play emerges. The proper under- 
standing of the relations of Othello and Desdemona is 
equally important with the question of the relations of 
lago and Othello. The exposition of these two elements 
of the play is set forth by the dramatist with his usual 
clearness, and at considerable length, but has neverthe- 
less escaped the notice of the critics, or has been dis- 
counted as a factor in the interpretation.^ But it is 
high time to learn that whatever Shakespeare put de- 
liberately into his dramas is to be considered in the 
interpretation. 

The meeting of the two search parties, each seeking 
Othello for a different reason, brings the relations of 
Othello and Desdemona into prominence. The party 
of Cassio, with the Senate's hasty summons to Othello, 
serves to give dramatic importance to Othello's great 
ability as a commander, and to emphasize his military 
^ Cf. Bradley, Shakespearean Tragedy. 



Othello 197 

value to Venice. Brabantio and his troop serve to 
bring out the private side of Othello's character, hither- 
to unsuspected. When the two parties meet, Braban- 
tio is in a very quarrelsome mood. The cool words of 
Othello prevent a clash between the two : 
"Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them." 

(I. ii. 75-6.) 

The sudden danger from the Turks at Cyprus has 
made great dispatch necessary, and the Duke has or- 
dered Othello before him "even on the instant." Bra- 
bantio's appeal to the Senate occurring at the same 
time, Othello appears before the magnificoes in the dou- 
ble capacity of the General of the state entrusted with 
a great military exploit, and as an eloper with Braban- 
tio's daughter. 

The Moor now finds that his old friend, the Signior 
Brabantio, formerly his admirer, has unexpectedly 
become his accuser before the Senate. Formerly hon- 
ored as a friend and as a great soldier, and gladly ad- 
mitted to Brabantio's house, Othello discovers that 
he is now considered an enemy, and execrated as the 
husband of Brabantio's daughter. For the jSrst time, 
possibly, Othello becomes aware of the fact that he is 
not accepted on terms of full and exact equality in all 
particulars with the Venetians. It is likely, however, 
that Othello had feared this, and so took Desdemona 
in marriage without asking her father, evidently satis- 
fied that as a black man he could not obtain Brabantio's 
consent. 

When the matter is brought before the Senate, Bra- 
bantio's objections to Othello all have to do with his 
difference of race and color. He thinks it utterly un- 
natural for Desdemona to accept him willingly and 
knowingly. He cannot conceive how his daughter, a 



198 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

fair maid of Venice, could consent to marry a man of 
Othello's color and nationality^, unless in some wslj out 
of her senses. So preposterous does -it appear to him 
that he must suppose Othello has charmed her with 
drugs and magic. He cries out in his desperation : 

"She is abus'd, stolen from me, and corrupted 
By spells, and medicines, bought of mountebanks; 
For nature, so preposterously to err, 
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense) 
Sans witch-craft could not." 

(I. iii. 75-9.) 

He reiterates his belief that it is "against all rules of 
nature," and speaks of Othello's supposed magic as 
"practices of cunning hell." Brabantio, at least, thinks 
the marriage of Moor and Venetian, of black and white, 
to be utterly preposterous and unnatural, and doubt- 
less the other Senators shared this conviction. 1^ seems 
likely that this was also the opinion of the dramatist, 
for there is abundant evidence that it was always so 
regarded on the Elizabethan stage. Only the develop- 
ment of the drama will show how far Shakespeare sym- 
pathizes with this opinion. 

Two deeds upcJn the part of Othello have now brought 
him into active collision with other persons, and the two 
are related to each other. Because of his obligations 
to Cassio in the matter of his love-making with Des- 
demona he has appointed him to an important position 
over lago, thus making an enemy of his faithful officer. 
He has also stolen away Desdemona from her father, 
and secretly married her, making an enemy of Braban- 
tio, who had been one of his greatest admirers among 
the Senate. In both cases there is evidence of his cal- 
lousness and dullness of mind. Up to this point Othello 
had been able to carry successfully his exalted respon- 



Othello 199 

sibility in his adopted state, but in these matters he 
makes a complete break-down. Not even his superior 
military training could save him. He could perform 
well the duties of military life, but now it begins to be 
evident that he is not fitted for the higher and more 
exacting arts of peace, and especially of love, in a 
civilized state. When Othello leaves "the tented fields" 
for the streets and homes of a refined city he utterly 
goes to pieces, and whatever sense of honor he may 
have had speedily gives place to a dangerous caprice. 
An unsuspected weakness, or deficiency, in his char- 
acter is thus laid bare, upon which the whole tragedy 
will later be seen to turn. 

This deficiency, it is now important to notice, the 
play implies is due to his racial character, and comes 
from the fact that he is a Moor. The half-civilized 
Othello is but ill adapted for life in civilized and cul- 
tured Venice. Some critics endeavor to make out that 
nothing whatever of the happenings of the play are 
in any way connected with the fact that Othello is a 
Moor. They allege he is nothing but a man, though 
he happens to be a black man. His color, they say, 
is an entirely indifferent matter in the play, and can 
be all but ignored in the interpretation. On this as- 
sumption, however, the many references to his color 
and race throughout the play cannot well be explained.-^ 
This view takes for granted that the dramatist heaps 
up idle words having no significance, and refuses to 
believe that there was a meaning in all he wrote. It is 
not necessary to hold, as Professor Bradley would 
have us believe, that the dramatist must be credited 
with clear doctrines of Kulturgeschichte if we are to 
maintain that he made the problem of Othello at least 
^ Cf. Note D., pp. 398-300, infra. 



) 



\ 



200 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

ill part a problem of race. Feelings of racial differ- 
ences did not have to wait for the Germans of later 
times to write histories of culture. In Shakespeare's 
da}^ the discovery of new lands and new peoples must 
have impressed all thoughtful Europeans with the con- 
ception of their own superiority in all the arts and 
character of civilized life. And the play makes Othello 
quite as conscious as any one else of his diversity of 
race, though it is to other causes that he assigns his 
want of grace and culture. 

When charged before the Senate with the abduction 
of Desdemona, Othello's defence consists of a frank and 
free admission that he had taken Brabantio's daughter, 
and an apologetic account of his "whole course of love." 
He pleads that he is "little blest with the soft phrase 
of peace," for he has spent all his life in "feats of 
broils, and battle." (I. iii. 104 ff.) In the course of 
his apology, his "round unvarnished tale" becomes elo- 
quent with a barbaric sincerity and splendor that al- 
most enlists the sjmipathy of the Senate. The story of 
"the battle, sieges, fortune" he had passed is almost 
as potent with the senators as it had been with Des- 
demona, who, he says, 

"lov'd me for the dangers I had passed, \ 
And I lov'd her, that she did pitv them.*' \ 

(I. iii. 190-1.) 

He further says he is ready to abide by the decision of 
Desdemona, and advises the senate to call her to speak 
for herself. He considers the marriage to be a matter 
for themselves alone, and implies that the lady has a 
right to choose her husband without her father's con- 
sent. 

There are numerous Shakespearean plays which seem 
to bear out the idea that the dramatist thought it to 



Othello 9A)\ 

be the woman's right to cljoose Iier own husband, with- 
out meeting her father's wisJu's in Wm' matter, iiut 
there are many differences, and tfjesc- must be given 
consideration. Shakespeare undoubtedly approves such 
choice when it means a larger and fuller life. Juliet 
disobeyed a tyrannical and hateful father to find a 
larger life and a true spiritual union with Romeo. In 
the same spirit Imogen refused the coarse and villain- 
ous Cloten, to join hands and hearts with the virtuous 
Posthumus. The lovely Jewess, Jessica, ran away from 
the miserly Shylock to marry the Christian, Lorenzo, 
and at the same time accepted the religion of her hus- 
band. In all these cases the maidens found their true 
life with the men of their own choice, and the dramatist 
gives his verdict in making tlieir lov(? happy and suc- 
cessful, and in bringing out rjf tlieir rrjarriagr- n. hirgfj- 
good to all. 

I'here are in these- and ottier instances, fiowever, many 
differences from the case of Otliello and Dcsdemona. It 
is not so much the wilful disrespect to her father that 
is the fault of I)(,'sd('mona, though some critics make a 
great deal of this,^ but the fact hliat in marrying Othello 
she showed a wilful disregard of her own highest in- 

* C'/. Bodenstedt, who says: "So long as family ties are held 
sacred, Desdernona will he held guilty towards her father hy 
every healthy mind. Without keeping in mind this wrong, in 
which Othello shares . . . the drama loses its sacredly tragic 
character, and degenerates into a mere intrigue. For that such a 
finished villain as lago should destroy the happiness of two such 
excellent persons as Othello and Dcsdemona, witliout at the same 
time, consciously or unconsciously, serving higher purj)oses, can 
make an impression which is only sorrowful, not tragic. It is 
otherwise when we take things as they are and keep strictly to the 
Poet's own words, putting nolhing into tiie play, hut explaining 
everything hy what is in it. Th(;n Desdemona's tr;igic fate affects 
us hecause we see that she is the fate herself which prepares the 
soil whereon lago sows the seed of his deadly mischief." Eng. 
trans, in Furness's Variorum Othello, p. 441. 



j 



202 Hamlet, cm I (leal Prince 

terests. It can scarcely be maintained that the mar- 
riage of Othello and Desdemona was a complete spir- 
itual union, for there were too many diverse elements 
that at the time seemed incompatible and in the end 
proved entirely irreconcilable. It is true, of course, that 
as in the case of Juliet tlie piission of love transformed 
Desdemona from a meek and blushing maiden into a 
strong and self-reliant woman. There need be no at- 
tempt to deny the reality of the love of these two, and 
its effect upon their development, but it was not strong 
enough or natural enough to overcome all its enemies, 
as a true and natural love like that of Romeo and Juliet 
can do. Under some conditions it is possible that 
their love might have outlived their lives and overcome 
its handicaps, yet it is to miss the art of this drama 
not to see that the dramatist is here showing its un- 
naturalness by placing it in the conditions that test 
it to the uttermost and that reveal its weakness and 
bring it to defeat. 

When Desdemona is brought into court to speak 
for herself in the matter of the marriage, she declares 
that she freely and lovingly takes Otliello for her hus- 
band, and intimates that she is willing to take all the 
consequences of that act. She affirms her love for the 
Moor, and her desire to live with him, and requests to 
be permitted to accompanj^ him to Cyprus. She says 
she understands fully what she is doing, recognizes 
Othello as a Moor, but that she accepts him as he is, 
for, as her words imply, she finds compensation for his 
color in the quality of his mind, in his honors, and in 
his courage: 

"My heart's subdu'd 
Even to the very quality of my lord; 
I saw Othello's visage in his mind, 



Othello 203 

And to his honors and his valiant parts 
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate." 
(I. iii. 278-282.) 

Seeing her determination and her v/illingness to abide 
by her decision, her father accepts what seems inevit- 
able, but leaves them with the needless and cruel re- 
mark : 

"Look to her (Moor) if thou hast eyes to see: 
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee." 1 

(I. iii. 323-4.) 

These words let us see where Desdemona got her wil- 
fulness, and relieve us of the necessity of grieving much 
over the sorrows of her father in this most unfortunate 
marriage. 



In some recent criticism there has been an attempt 
to glorify the purity and beauty of the love of Othello 
and Desdemona, and to place it among the most spirit- 
ual of the loves of Shakespeare. Professor Bradley 
speaks of Desdemona's choice of Othello as rising "too 
far above our common level," and adds: "There is 
perhaps a certain excuse for our failure to rise to 
Shakespeare's meaning, and to realize how extraor- 
dinary and splendid a thing it was in a gentle Venetian 
girl to love Othello, and to assail fortune with such 
a ^downright violence and storm' as is expected only in 
a hero." ^ But this is only another instance of that 
fanciful criticism that makes a new Shakespeare, and 
yet thinks it is interpreting the old. If Goethe's sug- 
gestions for the re-casting of Hamlet in order to ex- 
press better the meaning have not helped but hindered 
^ Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 202-3. 



204 Hamht. an Ideal Prince 

the understanding of Shakospoare's drama, we should 
learn the lesson of letthiff the dramatist have his way. 
Some of the critics before Professor Bradley have more 
truly seen the cliaracter of the love of Othello and 
Desdemona. Professor Dowden has observed that "In 
the love of each there was a romantic element ; and 
romance is not the highest form of the service which 
imagination renders to love. For romance disguises 
certain facts, or sees them, as it were, through a lumi- 
nous mist/' ^ 

Snider has noticed tliat tlie qualities in Othello that 
attract Desdemona are '*his bravery against external 
danger," tliat is, physical rather than mental or moral 
qualities, and that "no feats of mind, or skill, or cun- 
ning are recorded/' ^ Her love, indeed, seems to be a 
kind of romantic fascination, a love of the sensuous 
imagination, what Professor Herford properly calls "a 
perilous ecstasy of the idealizing brain without secure 
root in the heart/' ^ The last mentioned writer shows 
clear insight when lie contrasts the love of Othello and 
Desdemona witli that of Romeo and eluliet, wliich so 
^'completely possesses and occupies their simple souls, 
that they present no point of vantage for distintegrat- 
ing forces/' ^ Apparently it needs to be said over 
again that no conflict arose between Romeo and Juliet, 
but that all their trouble was with a world arrayed 
against tliem. But, between Otliello and Desdemona, 
on the other hand, a most distressing conflict arose that 
almost completely overshadowed tlie original conflict 
and ended only in the greatest catastrophe of the 

^Shakiipere—HU Mind and Art, p. 532, 13th edition, 1906. 
* Shakespeare Copimentaries: Tragedies, p. 95, St. Louis, V. S. 
A., 1807. 

•Everslev Shakespeare. Vol. Vlll., p. 290. 
*/6W., p. 290. 



Othello 205 

drama. Instead of bearing a comparison, the loves of 
the two plays are in almost every way a contrast. 

The marriage of Othello and Desdemona was a union 
of different races and colors that the sense of the 
world has never approved. The marriage of black 
and white seems always to have been repulsive to an 
Elizabethan, as to a modern audience, and dramatists 
before Shakespeare had always presumed that to be 
the case. Shakespeare no doubt shared this feeling, 
for in the two plays where no doubts on the matter 
are possible he follows the usual tradition. Assuming 
he had a part in writing the play, he has made Aaron, 
the Moor of Titus Andronicus, not only repulsive but 
a veritable brute and as cruel as Marlowe's Barabas. 
And in The Merchant of Venice, about whose author- 
ship there can be no doubt, and which is earlier than 
Othello, he had previously portrayed a Moor as a suitor 
for the hand of Portia, and presented him as unsuc- 
cessful. When the Prince of Morocco chooses the 
golden casket, only to find "a carrion death" awaiting 
him, Portia remarks : 

"A gentle riddance: draw the curtains, go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so." ^ 
(II. vii. 80-1.) 

His color is recognized as a natural barrier that makes 
him a very unwelcome suitor. Even his royalty is not 
to Portia a sufficient compensation. Othello, too, feel- 
ing that some compensation must be offered, pleads be- 
fore the senate his "royal lineage," apparently wishing 
them to infer that with this outer advantage he becomes 
the equal of his wife. Desdemona likewise offers her 

^The Stage-direction of the First Folio calls the Prince of 
Morocco "a tawnie Moore." Though the Prince is from Morocco 
and Othello from Mauritania, to Shakespeare both were alike 
Moors. 



206 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

plea and savs she has found the necessary compensa- 
tion in his ''mind" and in his •'valiant parts." But this 
does not appear to any of the other persons of the 
drama or to the dramatist as sufficient. Marriage 
makes a demand for absolute equality between the par- 
ties, and is likely to prove fatal in those case< where 
apologies and excuses are necessary. 

It has not generally been observed that Shakespeare 
makes more of this racial difference than did Cinthio, 
the Italian original. To Cinthio it is almost entirely a 
matter of a difference of color, which in itself is ex- 
ternal though not unimportant. But to Shakespeare, 
who always reads deeper than others, it is on the sur- 
face a matter of color, but at bottom a matter of racial 
divergence that amounts to an incompatibility of char- 
acter. It is this difference of character that Shake- 
speare elevates into a matter of the greatest dramatic 
importance, as it appears to all students who take their 
notions of the play from Shakespeare's play itself. 
Lamb, freely admitting his ''Imperfect Svmpathies," 
remarks that in reading the play we Like to see Desde- 
mona forget Othello's color and love him for his mind's 
sake, — see his visage in his mind; but m seeing it on 
the stage we "find something extremely revolting in the 
courtship and wedded caresses of Othello and Desde- 
mona." ^ Professor Wilson^s remark of more than 
half a century ago in Blackicood's (1850) is still to the 
point : "That the innate repugnance of the white Chris- 
tian to the Black Moorish blood, is the ultimate tragic 
substratum, — the *must' of all that follows." - And 
most people feel the same unless obsessed with some a 

'Lamb, Warks, London, 1S70, III, 105; quoted in Fulness's 
Variorum Othello, p. 410. 
'Quoted, Fumess, S9B. 



I 



Othello 207 

priori notion of equality that they profess to believe, 
but never care to put into practice. 

There is much evidence in the play that Shakespeare 
associates the deficiencies we have seen in Othello's char- 
acter with his race and color. It is not important for 
our purpose to consider the truth of this conception, 
but enough to notice that Shakespeare so regarded 
it, though there will not be many readers who will dis- 
agree with the dramatist. Shakespeare has done all he 
could to make Othello appear a great soldier, a strong 
man, and a noble character, but cannot free him from 
the defects of his race nor from the difficulties of his 
unnatural position. There is a magnanimity, a physi- 
cal daring, even an intellectual vigor, about him that 
is in every way excellent. But these are the qualities 
of a noble barbarian, and would not make up a highly 
civilized European. He does not possess the finer in- 
tellectual qualities, nor the moral sensibility to grapple 
with the intricate and complex problems of life that 
present themselves in his new environment.^ When be- 
fore the council he admits the lack of the softer arts, 
but he charges this to his military life, and not to his 
racial extraction. He is, in fact, everything that is 
noble and excellent as a Moor ; but lacking in the finer 
graces and qualities of a Venetian. In short, Othello is 
simply of a lower type. Shakespeare evidently is of 
the same mind as Tennyson: "Better fifty years of 
Europe than a cycle of Cathay." 

The play gives many evidences of the savage nature 
which cannot be restrained by his acquired virtues. 
Schlegel has remarked that "the mere physical force 
of passion puts to flight in one moment all his acquired 
and mere habitual virtues, and gives the upper hand 
^ Cf, Herford, Eversley Shakespeare, VIII, 289. 



208 



Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 



I' 



to the savage over the moral man." ^ Othello lacks the 
mental poise and clear vision of a high nature. He 
possesses sturdy physical qualities, but lacks the finer 
moral powers. What Schlegel calls the "tyranny of 
the blood" asserts itself at every turn. When lago 
works on liis jealous imagination he completely collapses 
and falls in a swoon. When he sees Cassio talking with 
lago, about Desdemona as he thinks, he wants to tear 
him in pieces at once. When troubled with the convic- 
tion of Desdemona's unfaithfulness, he gets the letter 
ordering him from Cyprus, and when Desdemona ex- 
presses her pleasure at his recall, in the very presence 
of Lodovico he brutally strikes his wife. Then after 
killing Desdemona, and thinking he is rid of Cassio, 
Othello thinks he can go on as usual, and coolly ap- 
points lago his lieutenant. The strong and mighty 
warrior is but a child in the control of his passion, and 
a savage in his lack of moral sense. How different 
the noble Hamlet, w^ho can refrain from killing the 
king at prayer, and whose conscience troubles him for 
unwillingly giving ofltence to Laertes. 

It is manifest that in this drama Shakespeare is 
working on a special case that comes within a very 
large general principle. The province of dramatic 
art of course excludes that of generalization, and must 
necessarily be limited to a particular instance. But 
the larger principle upon which the dramatist is work- 
ing is that of marital incompatibility, and to make out 
his contention he chooses a case that not only exhibits 
to the inner sense of those who observe but also exhibits 
to the outer sense of those who only see. Shakespeare 
has in this play first taken two persons joined in a mar- 

* Schlegel, Lectures on Dra/matic Art and Literature, Eng. 
trans., p. 409, cf, Furness, p. 432. 



Othello 209 

riage made incompatible in the first instance by their 
spiritual incongruities, but in order to make it appear 
to the eye as well as to the mind also joined in a di- 
versity of race and color. This difference of color is 
doubtless intended by the dramatist merely to be a sym- 
bol of the mental and moral inferiority upon which the 
tragedy turns. Every Elizabethan playgoer would 
at once recognize Othello's blackness of visage as a 
mark of spiritual inferiority to the delicate whiteness 
of the fair maid of Venice. The contrast in color is 
only a sign and symbol of the deep and fundamental 
discrepancy in culture and spiritual character between 
Othello and his delicate wife. This it is that is the real 
cause of the conflict between the two, and that aggra- 
vates into tragedy the little incidents that between 
two kindred spirits would pass off with no more than 
a ripple on the surface of their married happiness. 

That the difference of color is a real and not merely 
an imaginary source of trouble in the case of Othello 
may be further seen in the fact that in the same way 
he is continually getting into trouble with the other 
persons of the drama. As the play develops there is 
not a person of any prominence in the play with whom 
he does not come into conflict. His color, or the char- 
acter due to his color, before the play closes puts him 
in opposition to all the leading persons of the play. 
Othello is indeed a Moor, a noble but a savage nature, 
a man out of touch with his surroundings, who is vainly 
trying to live his life among another people of a differ- 
ent color and higher ideals.^ 

* It is unnecessary to spend time discussing the question whether 
Shakespeare thought of Othello as a negro. Not likely he made 
finy clear distinction between tV^ various black peoples. He gives 
Othello the "thick lips" of theWegro, though all his other char- 
acteristics are Moorish rather th^n negro. Cf. quotations in Fur- 



210 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

The difference of race, and hence of spiritual char- 
acter, is that which disturbs the marriage of Othello 
; and Desdemona, and leads to the difficulty with lago. 
Professor Bradley has made little or nothing of this 
' difference in his interpretation of the play, but in the 
matter of the personal relations of Othello with Des- 
demona he admits, though in a foot-note, that it has 
not been sufficiently realized. He says : "The effect 
of difference in blood in increasing Othello's bewilder- 
ment regarding his wife is not sufficiently realized. The 
same effect has to be remembered in regard to Des- 
demona's mistakes in dealing with Othello in his 
anger." ^ But this is not enough. The difference 
of blood is a factor in the situation of the play 
and the course of the plot. There may or may not be 
an equality of the races. It may be a mistake to 
regard one as inferior to another. But there is at 
least a difference, and a difference that renders them 
in some matters incompatible. The course of life as 
well as of this play presents abundant evidence that 
there is not enough common ground for a permanent 
and ethical marriage relationship between two races so 
different from one another. With such a difference 
there cannot be a sufficient harmony and frankness in 
concerns of the deepest mutual interest to overcome 
the difficulties sure to arise in a lifelong marriage. 
Such a marriage has almost fatal handicaps and em- 
barrassments from the start. lago, easily the clever- 
est and wisest person of the play,^ saw this and planned 
to take a hideous advantage of it, both in his dealings 

ness on this subject, pp. 389-396, especially that from Hunter, 
p. 390. 

* Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 193. 

^ Professor Bradley speaks of lago as "a man ten times as able 
as Cassio or even Othello." (Op. cit.y p. 221.) 



Othello 211 

directly with Othello, and in his suggestions to Cassio. 
The self-assurance of Othello when he saw that his 
elopement was discovered shows he did not appreciate 
the predicament he had got himself into. To lago's 
suggestion that he go in and escape the officers sent 
to apprehend him, he replies with a rude self-confidence : 

"Not I: I must be found. 
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul 
Shall manifest me rightly." 

(I. ii. 35-37.) 

He was bright enough to foresee opposition, and for 
this reason married secretly, but not far-seeing enough 
to appreciate the character of the resentment he would 
arouse. Even his long military career had not entirely 
eradicated his barbaric view of his relations to others, 
and, as we have seen from his dealings with lago, had 
not implanted a high sense of honor. 

It is only after Othello has his wife secure and is 
dispatched to Cyprus, that lago reveals the second 
reason for his hatred. The matter, however, is of a 
strictly personal nature, affecting the honor of his 
wife, and therefore cannot be made known to Roderigo, 
and moreover cannot be entirely proven. But it serves 
to whet his revenge : 

"I hate the Moor, 
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets 
He has done my office. I know not ift be true, 
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, 
Will do, as if for surety." 

(I. iii. 410-14.) 

Many critics are disposed to hold Othello innocent 
of this wrong, because the words of the play do not put 
it beyond doubt. So far as Emilia is concerned, how- 
ever, her conversation with Desdemona clearly reveals 



212 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

her as not invulnerable. (IV. iii.) It seems somewhat 
ungracious, inasmuch as there is no proof in the play^ 
but man}" see in Othello's suspiciousness of women the 
stain of his own previous transgi'essions, and possibly 
'with Emilia. It will not do, however, to conclude with 
Snider that Othello is really guilty of this offence, or 
to regard this as the main grievance of lago, and that 
upon which the play turns. The main conflict between 
Othello and lago undoubtedly is that outlined by lago 
in the opening scene of the play. Though there is no 
direct proof of his guilt with Emilia, the cloud of sus- 
picion certainly hangs over Othello all through the 
pla}^, and unavoidabh' affects our estimate of his char- 
acter. It apparently suits the dramatist's purpose not 
to remove the doubt, for it is mere suspicion upon 
which many of the conflicts of the play turns, — this 
among others. These suspicions, it is important to 
notice, all have to do with Othello's character and his 
ill-adjusted relations with his adopted fellow-citizens. 
The main conflict of the play, that between Othello 
and lago, springs from well-founded charges, and the 
others from mere suspicions, but all alike have to do 
with Othello's relations with the people of Venice, and 
all alike show his inability to maintain the standards 
of their life. 

VI 

Having now studied the two conflicts into which the 
barbaric nature of Othello led him, it is necessary to 
look at these same conflicts from the side of tlie other 
persons, and to try to understand especially the mind 
of lago, and to follow the unfolding of his schemes 
as they affect Desdemona, and the development of the 
play. The condemnation of lago has been so nearly 



Othello 213 

universal that it will be well to investigate his motives 
and his point of view with the utmost care. 

No one now-a-days can think with Coleridge that 
lago is a motiveless villain.^ There is no doubt about 
his villainy, and as Macaulay long ago said he is the 
object of universal loathing. There is a sly and 
unscrupulous cunning about him that renders it im- 
possible for us to sympathize with him in his schemes, 
and a dastardly and unrelenting furiousness about his 
pursuit of his end that makes him appear to love evil 
for its own sake, and that goes far beyond what any 
sense of justice could warrant. But it is one of those 
strange fatuities of that character study that neglects 
the narrative of a play that leads Professor Lewis 
Campbell to compare lago unfavorably with Macbeth.^ 
The murderer of Duncan had no such grievance as the 
destroyer of Othello. The grand style of Macbeth's ex- 
ecrable ambition has disguised the utter iniquity of his 
deeds. The enormity of a crime does not make it less 
criminal. 

Various explanations have been offered by the few 
writers, and these quite recent, who have felt the neces- 
sity of accounting for the very apparent change in the 
attitude of lago toward Othello. One suggests that 
the malignity of lago in the latter part of the play is 
due to his consciousness of personal danger, and to 
save himself he turns to extremes of cruelty and re- 
venge.'^ But the explanation that calls for most care- 
ful consideration is that offered by Professor Bradley 
in his Shall es pear e an Tragedy, The scant justice done 
by Professor Bradley to what he admits is the popular 

^Lectures on Shakespeare, p. 388. 
^ Tragic Drama, by Lewis Campbell, p. 239. 

•* W. H. Hadow, in Albany Review, same Liviru/ Atfe, Sept. 13th, 
1908,258:674-680. 



214 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

view of lago need not detain us longer than to say that 
his very popular statement of that view has by no means 
exhausted the depth of meaning it contains any more 
than the old popular form of the stories is to be taken 
as adequate for Shakespeare's versions. Leaving this 
aside, however, for the present with Professor Brad- 
ley's criticisms of other views, let us notice his own 
theories of lago. 

Professor Bradley's view seems to be that lago is 
moved by envy and jealousy of others in better posi- 
tions than himself. He says, "Whatever disturbs or 
wounds his sense of superiority irritates him at once ; 
and in that sense he is highly competitive. This is 
why the appointment of Cassio provokes him. This is 
why Cassio's scientific attainments provoke him." ^ 
Again he says of lago that "Othello's eminence, Othel- 
lo's goodness, and his own dependence on Othello must 
have been a perpetual annoyance to him. At any time 
he would have enjoyed befooling and tormenting Othel- 
lo." ^ And then he explains lago's casting off the 
mask at this time by saying that "His thwarted sense of 
superiority wants satisfaction." ^ 

But this explanation is too general and goes too far. 
If lago is merely envious of Cassio, and feels that his 
sense of superiority is wounded by the promotion of 
Cassio, then for the same reason he should have been 
envious of Othello as well, for as Professor Bradley 
himself says, he is "a man ten times as able as Cassio 
or even Othello." ^ Up to this time lago seems never 
to have been envious of Othello, but on the contrary 
served him as his faithful and willing "ancient," until 
passed over in the promotion of Cassio. He did 

^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 221. ^ Op. cit., p. 229. 
' Op. cit., p. 228. * Op. cit., p. 221. 



Othello 215 

not have a general sense of superiority and seems never 
to have thought of holding himself superior to those 
to whom he was by nature superior, such as Othello, but 
was only aggrieved when passed over for a promotion 
for which he stood in line, and for which a previous 
faithful and good record had qualified him. To admit 
that it was this that caused him to throw off the "mask" 
of his friendship for Othello is to admit that the change 
in the conduct of lago is due to a grievance which he 
thought real, but which the critic thinks unreal. If 
that is granted then it is no longer a matter of throw- 
ing off a mask, but of working for revenge because 
of a fancied wrong. The drama is then no longer a 
drama of intrigue as that is commonly understood, but 
becomes a drama of revenge, which is a very different 
thing. Given the deed of Othello operating upon the 
character of lago, and the drama becomes as contended 
the development of the deed and character of Othello. 
There is no denying the fact that lago was a very 
bad man. But he is a man, not a monster, as some 
would have us believe. It cannot well be maintained 
that he takes delight in evil for its own sake, though 
neither can it be denied that he has some traces of the 
Machiavellian villain in the diabolical nature of his 
revenge.^ To show that lago has grievances is to 
show that he has motives, and to have motives that the 
play recognizes is to be a Shakespearean rather than a 
Machiavellian villain. lago is undoubtedly cruel and 
unscrupulous in the pursuit of his revenge, and perhaps 
toward the end of the play comes to take a grim delight 
in pushing the punishment of his enemies beyond the 

^ Professor Stoll has recently called attention to the Machiavel- 
lian characteristics of lago, in an article on "Criminals in Shake- 
speare and in Science," in Modern Philology, Vol. X, pp. 55-80, 
191^-13. 



216 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

full measure of the offence, but even this does not 
make him a fiend incarnate. lago launches his poisoned 
darts against none but those who have offended him, 
and who have stood in his way. His initial ambitions 

J and hopes were legitimate and proper, but his relent- 
less revenge on those who interfered was extreme and 
diabolical. Yet he is by no means such a villain as 
Macbeth or as Richard the Third, whose ambitions led 
them through the blood of all who stood in their way 
to the throne. lago's malignity rests upon two deep 
causes of real offence given him by Othello. He is not 
in the first instance the aggressor, but the sufferer, and 
only resents and tries to avenge the injuries done him. 
To regard lago as the arch-villain is to overlook the 
fact made so plain in the play that it was Othello that 
was the aggressor, and not lago. But some are so con- 
stituted that they can never see the evil of an aggres- 
sive wrong, but are ready to condemn any person who 
refuses to be a victim of the nefarious practices of 
others. 
\ To attempt to discover lago's motives is not to jus- 

V^ tify him, or to try to palliate his wickedness. No real 
apology can be made for his character and conduct, 
though it is important to understand his mental state. ^ 
His motives can be claimed to be psychologically ade- 
quate as motives without admitting that they are mor- 
ally sufficient or justifiable. If we are to continue to 
think of Shakespeare as a dramatic genius we must not 
first put one of his characters outside the human rac* 
by making him an impossible monster and then pro- 
claim our admiration for the dramatist by declaring 
^ Under the title of "An Apoloc:y for the Character and Con- 
duct of lago," an attempt was made to set right our ideas of 
lago in a volume entitled Essays by a Society of Gentlemen at 
Exeter, as long ago as 1796. Of. Furness, pp. 408-9. 



Othello gl7 

lago a great creation. The play makes him a human 
being with human but evil motives, and his unscrupu- 
lous use of the dupe, Roderigo, shows his criminal heart- 
lessness. Moreoverj it must be freely declared that 
the punishment he meted out to Othello was undoubt- 
edly out of all proportion to the offence committed. 
He could not forgive the injuries Othello's barbarism 
had unwittingly committed against him. But mercy, 
as Portia says in The Merchant of Venice, 

"is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice." 

(IV, 1. 205-7.) 

For lago to plague Othello to the murder of his wife and 
to his own death was to exact more than the utmost 
farthing and to worship the spirit of vengeance. Such 
Italian revenge becomes diabolical, and destroys what- 
ever sympathy we might otherwise have for lago. 
He is severe and unforgiving, and in trying to revenge 
the 'wrong done him undoubtedly commits a greater 
wrong. This is sufficient condemnation without at- 
tempting to take away his humanity by denying him 
any real motive. Though "honest" throughout his 
earlier life, yet when he was provoked and wronged he 
was as unforgiving and vengeful as a serpent. This ) 

phase of his character was a great surprise to those ^^ 
who knew him best, but still it is a conceivable dis- 
closure or development. ""^ 

lago's plan of revenge was so comprehensive as to 
include all those who were concerned in the injuries 

he suffered: 

"How? How? Let's see. 
After some time, to abuse Othello's ears 
That he is too familiar with his wife." 
(I. iii. 418-420.) 



218 Hamlet, an Ideal Frince 

This would at once feed fat his revenge on Othello, who 
w^as the direct agent in both his injuries; would enable 
him to strike at Desdemona whose interest in Cassio 
had lost him the lieutenancy; and at the same time 
would rid him of Cassio, whose promotion had thwarted 
his ambition. His boldness, fearlessness, and deceit 
were equal to the task, and would avail to use the gull, 
Roderigo, for his purpose. 

The storm that struck the Venetians on their way 
to Cyprus also struck the Turks, and did more com- 
plete destruction than Othello's forces could have 
accomplished. This furnished lago with all necessary 
freedom and opportunity to work out his intrigues 
upon the company. He opened his attack by inciting 
Roderigo further against Cassio, stirring up his jeal- 
ousy by saying that Desdemona was already tiring of 
Othello and was even now in love with Cassio. Desde- 
mona, he asserts, cannot much longer be infatuated with 
Othello, but must turn to one of her own race. "Her 
eye must be fed." She must have a man of a favorable 
appearance, which to them meant one of her own race. 
There is none more likely than her old friend, Cassio, 
who it must be acknowledged is "a very proper man." 
This wise observer further announces the very reason- 
able view that for a happy marriage there must be 
"loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and 
beauties; all which the Moor is defective in." (II. i. 
262-3.) And lago persuades the poor fool Roderigo 
that if Cassio is only out of the way, then he will un- 
doubtedly be Desdemona's next choice. 

As for Othello, there is no doubt that he dearly 
loved the gentle Desdemona, and was very proud of 
her. As Coleridge said, "Othello had no life but in 
Desdemona: — the belief that she, his angel, had fallen 



Othello 219 

from the heaven of her native innocence, wrought a 
civil war in his heart." ^ He ought to love her ; he 
had got the better of the bargain. Had he not loved 
her, he could not have been so easily put into dis- 
trust, and would not have been so moved by doubt. 
Indifference does not breed jealousy, and unconcern 
is not the mother of distrust. His passion was 
not so much jealousy as pride, for, as many writers have 
remarked, it was lago who was essentially the jealous 
man.^ It was his great affection that caused him to 
feel so deeply the stain of dishonor. He had not him- 
self sought marriage until he had seen Desdemona, 
and even then she was half the wooer. He married her 
for the one good and sufficient reason that he had fallen 
in love, and had rather reluctantly given up the free 
life of the bachelor to take on himself the duties of 
matrimony. But love conquered his objections: 

"For know lago, 
But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
I would not my unhoused free condition 
Put into circumscription, and confine, 
For the sea's worth." 

(I. ii. 27-31.) 

To put such a love into distrust, lago rightly con- 
ceived that a long detour must be made, and Cassio 
must be made the means. The first step was to incite 
Roderigo to "find some occasion to anger Cassio" (II. 
i. 298-9), for "he's rash, and very sudden in choler: 
and happily may strike at you." At the same time 
lago will exert himself to get Cassio drunk, for 
then he is "as full of quarrel, and offence As my young 
mistress' dog." (II. ii. 66-7.) The result of this will 

^Lectures on Shakespeare, p. 393. 

'^Cf. Heraud, quoted by Furness, pp. 88-9; Tennyson, Memoir, 
II. p. 292. 



> 



220 HamUt, an Ideal Prince 

be that Othello will dismiss Cassio from the lieutenancy, 
and the coveted post will fall to lago. To this end a 
holiday is proclaimed, and in a night of revelry and 
carousing lago succeeds in making Cassio drunk. The 
scheme turns out better than he anticipated, for 
Cassio not only gets into trouble with Roderigo, but 
also with Montano, Othello's predecessor in the office 
of Governor of Cvprus. and is immediately dismissed 
by Othello. 

Until now, lago had apparently formulated no 
definite plan by which to make Othello jealous of 
Cassio. When he first conceived the idea he intended, 

"After some time, to abuse Othello's ears, 
That he is too familiar with his wife." 
(I. iii. 419-4:?0.) 

With the fortunate turn he has now given to events, 

he devises a scheme for abusing Othello's ear. When 

Cassio comes to him in great distress because of hi- 

fall, and wants his kind offices, he advises him to entrea* 

Desdemona to intercede for him with Othello: ''Confes- 

yourself freely to her: importune her help to put you 

in your place again. . . . This broken joint between 

you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter." (II. 

ii. 347-352.) His delight in this scheme lago voices 

in words that show how fully he realizes the diabolical 

character of the plan. At the same time he reveals 

how fully he includes Desdemona in his revenge, as 

the instigator of his injuries: 

"So will I turn her virtue into pitch. 
And out of her own goodness make the net. 
That shall en-mesh them all/' 

(II. ii, 391-3.) 

Not at once, but after the failure of Cassio's at- 
tempts to reinstate himself in the confidence of Othello, 



Othello 221 

lago is appointed to the coveted lieutenancy. But 
so much has he given himself up to the consuming 
fire of revenge that even this does not appease his 
wrath. Though a belated vindication, this should 
have satisfied him, and the fact that it does not seems 
to mean either that there were other grievances still 
in his mind, or that he had learned to take delight 
in vengeance for its own sake. The truth seems to be 
that lago did not yet think that justice had been meted 
out to Othello, for he had as yet suffered nothing for 
the alleged wrong with Emiha. The fact that lago 
was still not satisfied when he had obtained the desired 
vindication for the slight in the promotion of Cassio 
seems to indicate the seriousness with which he looked 
upon the affair concerning his wife. The alternative of 
assuming him to be a very devil for vengeance seems less 
preferable, for it robs lago of his human nature and the 
dramatist of his supreme humanity and common sense. 
It has often been thought that too much good luck 
follows lago's devices, and that accident and chance 
wait upon him too faithfully. Professor (Sir) Walter 
Raleigh says, very curiously, that "In Othello the 
chances were all against the extreme issue; at a dozen 
points in the story a slip or an accident would have 
brought lago's fabric about his earsi' ^ Professor 
Bradley, apparently possessed by the same thought, 
says that it "confounds us with a feeling . . . that 
fate has taken sides with villainy." ^ These state- 
ments, however, arc but new forms of the mistaken 
conception that intrigue and not character rules in 
some of the plays of Shakespeare. Ulrici long ago 

^Shakespeare, "English Men of Letters," Everslev edition, 
p. 274. London, 1909. 
'Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 182. 



Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

stated this quite clearly concerning Otliello: "The 
distinguishing peculiarity of our [this] drama consists 
in its being a tragedy of intrigue, whereas all Shake- 
speare's other tragedies are rather tragedies of charac- 
ter,'' ^ But there is no occasion to take Othello out 
from the main body of Shakespearean tragedy, for no 
less than the others it is a tragedy of character, but 
the forces and factors have been so subtle and complex 
that we have merely failed to unravel them. To re- 
gard Othello as a drama of intrigue would be to put it 
on a much lower plane of art than the other plays, and 
would also involve assigning to it a more pessimistic 
and hopeless view of life and of the world. For this 
readers and students are scarcely prepared. 

It must be admitted sooner or later that the trouble 
is in the incongruous marriage of Othello and Desde- 
mona. To try to suggest other ways out of the 
trouble than are to be found in the play itself is 
simply to try to undo Shakespeare. For Othello to 
strike down lago at the bare suggestion of his wife's 
unfaithfulness, as Professor Raleigh intimates he should 
do, would not render the marriage of the two any more 
ideal or any less unnatural. It would merely have 
lengthened out the thread of Othello's existence, and 
have afforded time other opportunities to plan his 
downfall. The hand of force cannot hold back moral 
necessities, nor can outer hindrances prevent the work- 
ing of inner forces. In developing Othello's passion 
and character into tragedy, Shakespeare was experi- 
menting with it, and seeing how it would work out 
under the most unfavorable conditions. But to place 
it in favorable conditions where, perchance, it would 

^Shakespeare's Dramatic Art, 1847, Eng. trans, in Furness, 
p. 434. 



Othello 223 

not have developed into tragedy would not have con- 
stituted a thorough study of this passion. The dram- 
atist saw, what many critics do not see, that accident 
may give form to dramatic problems, and may hasten 
their evolution. But dramatic problems are not 
created by accidents, and are not solved by accidents. 
Tragedy must always deal with essential passion and 
must give only real solutions of the conflicts developed. 
Much wiser, then, is the view of Professor Herford, and 
much more in accordance with the spirit of the play: 
"Even the trickery of lago, gross and clumsy as it is, 
and poorly as it would figure in a drama of intrigue^ 
completely succeeds. Othello's love, in its complexity, 
its intensity, and its blindness, has the very quality of 
tragic passion." ^ 

The situation, then, that the play presents is full 
of immense possibilities of trouble and sorrow. The 
relations of Othello and Desdemona are very delicate 
and exceedingly unstable, and keep them always in a 
very precarious position. The unnatural relationship 
of their marriage has not given Othello a secure hold 
on his wife's aff*ections, and his previous relations with 
women have been such as to make him peculiarly sus- 
\ ceptible to distrust. The difference of color between 
\ him and his wife is a matter at all times made promi- 
* nent in the play, and has given him much uneasiness, 
and has rendered him exceedingly vulnerable, especially 
when a white man is involved in the doubt of his 
wife's fidelity. It would be a rare stroke of good for- 
tune if these two were not to be disturbed in their 
marital relationships. 

Nobody knew better than the clever lago how fragile 
I their relations were, and he proceeds at once to make 
y ^Introduction to Othello in the Eversley Slmkenpeare, p. 289. 



224 Hairdet, an Ideal Prince 

full use of liis knowledge and his opportunity. He very 
gladly avails himself of the chance to use Cassio as a 
bait to entrap Othello, for it was he that had obtained 
the lieutenancy, and he was also suspected with Emilia. 
He therefore plans to suggest covertly to Othello that 
Cassio is altogether too friendly with Desdemona, and 
he goes so far as to say that she "repeals (recalls) him 
for her body's lust." In order to convince Othello 
beyond a doubt he arranges to let him see the two 
together : 

". . . myself, a while, to draw the Moor apart. 
And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find 
Soliciting his wife." 

(II. ii. 418-420.) 

Under the peculiar conditions of her marriage Des- 
demona was exceedingly unwise to manifest so much 
interest in Cassio. No matter if he had been her 
friend before her marriage and had indeed helped to 
bring the marriage about, she should have realized how 
fragile were her relations with her husband. It never 
seems to have entered her simple mind, however, that 
her relations with her Moorish husband needed any 
solicitous care on her part. lago's plot to destroy 
their marriage was exceedingly bold and clumsy, and 
as Professor Herford has said, "ill-calculated ... to 
wreck a normal marriage; but it is launched against a 
relationship so delicately poised that a touch suffices 
for its ruin." ^ Othello, with only the training of the 
"tented field," and Desdemona with none but that 
gained in her father's home and under his tuition, were 
ill-fitted to maintain in peace a marriage that required 
the most consummate care and the most delicate bal- 
ancing. It is doubtful if Desdemona was any more able 
* Op. cxU, p. 291. 



Othello 225 

for this difficult task than Othello. Her interest in 
another man, notwithstanding the fact that he was an 
old friend, was quite as dangerous an enemy to their 
peace as Othello's willingness to listen to "honest lago." 
Desdemona's childlike wilfulness was well matched by 
Othello's Moorish dullness. 

Much has been written on the excellence of lago's art 
of suggestion. The subtlety, the cleverness, the vil- 
lainy of his schemes are in strange contrast with the 
tragic perversity of Othello in being suspicious of his 
wife and unsuspicious of lago and everybody else. The 
pathetic thing is that Othello persisted in believing lies, 
and could not be made to believe the truth. The dis- 
parity between him and his wife, that rendered a com- 
plete union of hearts and minds impossible, was the 
cause of his suspicion and distrust. This, and not the 
mere circumstances of their lives, was the real source 
of the tragedy. And the external unlikeness of race 
and color of the old story has been transformed by 
Shakespeare into but the dramatic sign and symbol of 
an inner, deeper, and spiritual incompatibility. 

This is all in accordance with Shakespeare's dramatic 
method to be seen in other plays as well. He simply 
followed in this play the same plan he adopted in other 
plays when he transformed the old romance of Othello 
by making the external disparity of the old story over 
into an inner incongruity of spirit. It was the drama- 
tist's practice in adapting earlier dramatic material not 
to change the entire meaning of the story or play, but 
to widen and deepen it, and give it more vital and 
moral significance. This he did in Romeo and Juliet, 
The Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, and many other 
plays. The tragedies of life are not due primarily to 
unlikeness of favor, or to any other external difference. 



^ 



226 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

but to irreconcilability of spirit and of aims and ideals. 
In the case of Othello, if the difference had been one of 
complexion only, and no deeper, it would have taken 
more than the withering taunts of lago to unsettle its 
peace. But back of the color was the deeper and fun- 
damental conflict of spirit that was the real object 
of lago's incitement. lago made full use of the diver- 
sity between the two when urging Roderigo into his 
service, and shows that he recognizes not only the di- 
versity in "favor," but also that of ''years, manners, 
and beauties." When inciting Othello, however, he 
makes reference only to the one that could be seen with 
the eye, for Othello was a man of the senses : 

"I may fear 
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, 
May fall to match you with her country forms 
And happilv repent.'' 

(III. iii. 276-9.) 

The Moor's lack of the essential elements of culture 
and civilization has not been sufficiently observed. 
Othello is not a man of intellect, but lives his life almost 
wholly in the senses. When lago presents to him indi- 
cations of Desdemona's wrong-doing, he asks at once 
to be given ''ocular proof." He can believe only what 
he sees. Evidence other than "ocular" means nothing 
to him. It is for this reason that the evidence of the 
handkerchief appeals so strongly to him. Against this 
evidence of the senses, all the fondness, the sweetness, 
and the tenderness of Desdemona pass for nothing. 
Perfect frankness, the very quality Desdemona lacked, 
might have overcome his suspicion. But her manifest 
embarrassment at the accusation only added fuel to the 
fires of distrust, and he adds: "My mind misgives." 
(III. iv. 106.) The two lacked harmony and com- 



f^ 



i. 



Othello 227 

munity of feeling from the outset, and the process of 
time could scarcely fail to bring about that rupture 
that would be tragedy. 

In order to deceive Othello it is only necessary for 
lago to confuse his senses. His masterpiece of dis- 
simulation was the interview with Cassio concerning 
Bianca, in which lago contrives to make Othello think 
the conversation is about Desdemona. As only seeing 
is believing to Othello, the entrance of Bianca con- 
vinces Othello beyond a doubt that Cassio is a man 
not to be trusted. The pity of it is that Othello can- 
not believe the very one he most loves and should most 
completely trust. He is afraid to expostulate with 
Desdemona lest her beauty deprive him of resolution. 
Like the half-savage he is, he cannot let her speak for 
herself, for he has concluded she is guilty, and he 
cannot endure contradiction. Naturally, Desdemona 
cannot give him "ocular proof" of her innocence, and 
nothing less will satisfy him. He therefore concludes 
to kill her at once, "this night," and only at lago's 
suggestion defers instant action, in order to carry out 
a more perfect retribution by strangling her in the 
bed she has polluted. 

Yet this is the man that on certain levels of life and 
under certain conditions had wonderful self-control. 
Apparently to all his old friends his nobility and self- 
control were among his outstanding characteristics. 
Professor Bradley has remarked that "He has greater 
dignity than any other of Shakespeare's men," ^ and 
it may be remarked very much greater dignity than his 
Julius Caesar. But his recall from Cyprus, leaving 
Cassio in his place, serves as the occasion of a com- 
plete loss of self-control. When Desdemona shows 

^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 190. 



228 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

pleasure at the prospect of return to Venice, Othello 
mistakes her meaning, and the elemental passion in 
him is aroused to storm and fury. His rage is un- 
bounded, and so completely masters him that he bursts 
all self-restraint, and strikes his wife, calling her 
"Devil," and roaring at her, "Out of my sight." 
(IV. i. 271,274.) 

Such barbaric fury had never been seen in him 
before, and was entirely unsuspected even by his friends. 
Lodovico asks in amazement : 

"Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate 
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature 
Whom passion could not shake? Whose solid virtue 
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance 
Could neither graze, nor pierce?" 

(IV. 1. 295-9.) 

For the second time, then, Othello has proved himself 
deficient in the high virtue of self-command required of 
him in his adopted life in Venice and in the lofty posi- 
tion he held in the state. His treatment of his wife on 
this occasion is of a piece with his treatment of his 
"ancient." Both were brutal and inexcusable viola- 
tions of the rights and dignity of others, but one only 
ended in physical violence. V\^ith all his military prow- 
ess and power of command over others, Othello had not 
acquired the more civilized virtues of self-command and 
respect for others. 

Nothing could now stop the fury of Othello's anger. 
He could endure affliction, sores, shames, poverty, and 
captivity ; he could even endure to be "The fixed figure 
for the time of scorn. To point his slow, and moving 
finger at" ; but he says he could not bear "where I have 
garner'd up my heart ... to be discarded thence!" 
(IV. ii. 64-70.) He could not endure to be discarded 
by the one he loved. To be chosen by Desdemona with 



{ 



Othello 229 

her eyes open, and then to be cast off for another, a 
countryman of her own, was too much of a disappoint- 
ment for him to bear. Such humiliation in Venice he 
will not endure, and it is no surprise to hear lago say 
that Othello plans to quit Venice for his own native 
Mauritania with his bride, and there once more his royal 
blood will be acknowledged and honored. 

The modern critics of Shakespeare have not been 
satisfied with calling Othello's passion jealousy. Cole- 
ridge was one of the first to dissent from the old 
accusation.^ It is very certain his passion is not the 
same in kind as that of Leontes in The Winter^s Tale, 
There is no creeping suspicion. He does not weave up 
the web of his distrust from material of his own contriv- 
ing. It never dawns upon him that there is any ground 
for suspicion until the suggestions of lago. It is not 
jealousy, then, but as Professor Bradley says, "It is 
the wreck of his faith and his love" that move him.^ 
Misfortune he could endure, but not dishonor. To be 
cast off by Desdemona for one who was his inferior, 
his own lieutenant, was an affront to his pride that 
was too much to bear. He that fetched his blood from 
men of royal seige could not endure to be made in- 
ferior to his own lieutenant. Othello was a very proud 
man, and boasted his royal lineage. He had no sus- 
picions that Desdemona could ever hold any one in 
higher esteem than himself, and the suggestion that 
she was false with Cassio was an intimation to him 
that lier heart was not satisfied with the dignity his 
name had given her. 

The thought that she was not satisfied with him, a 
husband of royal descent, was a new thing to lu'm. It 

* Lectures on Shakespeare, pp. 381, 38(5, 393, 477, 59P. 
"^ Shakesi)enrean Tragedy, p. 104'. 



1^ 



230 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

involved the inferiority of himself and his race, and 
this he could not endure. No other person had ever 
dared to do an act that suggested in any way his 
inferiority, and he would not take it even from his wife. 
All his resentment was kindled, and he sprang to his 
own defence, and even in the presence of the Venetian 
envoy he would strike down such an insult. It was 
not jealousy, and not mere wounded honor, that en- 
raged Othello, but outraged pride. It was not Desde- 
mona who had brought dignity and position to him by 
the marriage. It was he that had conferred dignity 
and royalty upon her. He could not endure an}^ act 
that disparaged the high dignity of his birth, and made 
him to be the inferior of a common Venetian. For 
this he was never able to forgive Cassio, and in time 
promoted lago to the lost lieutenancy, for he at least 
would never challenge the dignity of Ins commander by 
any act like that of Cassio. 

VII 

And now for the conclusion of the whole matter. 
Shakespeare's final scenes are of equal importance with 
his first scenes. In the opening scenes he sets before 
his audience the various persons who enter into the 
conflict, and indicates the lines of their collisions. In 
the concluding scenes he draws the whole matter to a 
moral and dramatic culmination that is in effect his 
judgment upon the problems of the play. Here he dis- 
entangles the various threads that he has woven into 
the complexity of the plot, and in so doing gives his 
verdict upon the merits of the conflict. In no play is 
it more important to observe the outcome and the des- 
tiny assigned to the persons of the drama than in 



Othello 231 

Othello. 

Even before the conclusion of the fourth act lago's 
schemes begin to be discovered. Roderigo is the first 
to get his eyes open, and this makes it necessary for 
lago to use the last desperate chance to get rid of 
both him and Cassio. Othello, too, must be kept on 
the rack, and must be kept from suspecting the plots 
against him. There is no such thing as turning back 
now, and indeed lago gives no evidence of regret at 
having gone so far, or of a desire to retrace his steps. 
He is whole-hearted in his villainy, and only desires 
the fulfilment of his plans. His persuasive craftiness 
has kept both Roderigo and Cassio unconsciously serv- 
ing him, while they are led toward their own undoing. 
When he has got all the service they can render him, 
he adroitly turns them upon each other. No tears 
need be shed, however, over the sick fool, Roderigo, for 
this gentleman, when he could not get Desdemona for 
his wife, gave himself and his money up to an attempt 
to corrupt her as the wife of Othello. Cassio, how- 
ever, has been the more or less innocent victim of the 
friendship of Othello and the envy of lago, and the 
dramatist makes him survive all the intrigues of his 
enemy, and at last places him in the governorship of 
Cyprus as the successor of Othello. 

With the austerity of a judge the dramatist lias 
Othello carry out the sentence of destruction on his 
wife and on himself. The Moor's ferocious passion 
arms him to execute his vengeance upon Desdemona. 
With coolness, but with heavy sorrow, he enters the 
bed-chamber of his wife, to destroy her whose supposed 
transgression had ruined his happiness and almost his 
life. The wild-beast fury of liis anger has exhausted 
itself, and gives way to a calm and steady [)urpose to 



232 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

carry out unflinchingly his "great revenge." Othello 
is able now to approach his sleeping wife, and charge 
her to her face with unfaithfulness, and warn her to 
make preparation for her death. He is more like a 
heathen sacrificer than an assassin, and has no more 
compunctions about his task than the priests in the 
sacrifices of the religion of his fathers. He is to purge 
Desdemona from her sins, and perhaps purify her in 
her death. Against such convictions the beautiful inno- 
cence and pitiful pleadings of his Venetian bride are 
all in vain, and this Moorish giant hardens his heart 
for the sacrifice. This great soldier, who had once 
taken by the throat and smitten "a malignant, and a 
turban'd Turk" (V. ii. 427) now with the same strong 
hands and remorseless soul stifles the wife of his bosom. 
But in her death he quite as surely crushes out his 
own hopes, and cannot long survive the foul deed. 

Poor Desdemona ! In marrying Othello she little 
thought she was committing her all to a man who on 
mere suspicion would not hesitate to take her life. But 
the girlish creature could not be expected to know the 
ways of other peoples. Having chosen Othello with- 
out her father's consent, she must now abide by the 
fatal decision. She is innocent and lovely, but is want- 
ing in experience, and in open-mindedness and trans- 
parent honesty. She had deceived her father in marry- 
ing Othello ; she had deceived Othello himself about the 
handkerchief; and now in her dying hour she would 
shield her husband from his crime by deceitfully de- 
claring she had done it herself. But Othello, with his 
free and open nature, as from the beginning when he 
was willing to be found, will not have it so, and bluntly 
owns the deed. Is there any wonder he thought her 
deceiving him when she protested her innocence in the 



/ 



Othello 233 

face of what appeared to him most certain evidence 
of her guilt? What he knew of her had not prepared 
him to believe her against all others, or fortified him 
against thinking her deceitful. 

Critics have been loath to admit any wrong-doing in 
Desdemona. Though carried out in deception, her 
A- claim that she was the cause of her own death was 
no doubt prompted by a spirit of the most exalted 
and most devoted self-sacrifice. Her self-accusation 
was the index of her devotion to her husband. Recog- 
nizing this, and other good traits, critics have lauded 
her excellences, and one has called her "the most love- 
able of Shakespeare's women." ^ Professor Raleigh 
pictures her as all but perfect, having only a few 
trifling and insignificant faults, and no vices, and even 
these are lost to sight in her last triumphant, though 
tragic hours. He speaks of her "as a s'aint," ^ and 
says that "Desdemona and Othello are both made per- 
fect in the act of death." ^ Professor Bradley speaks 
in equally strong terms when he says: "She tends to 
become to us predominantly pathetic, the sweetest and 
most pathetic of Shakespeare's women, as innocent as 
Miranda and as loving as Viola, yet suffering more 
deeply than Cordelia or Imogen." ^ 

This, however, is again to refuse to see what the 
play itself presents directly. It is to form our own 
opinion of Desdemona without respect to what the 
play asserts and without regard to the judgment of 
the dramatist as shown in the destiny he assigns to her. 
Her faults stand out in the play so clearly that he who 
runs may read, but he who only fancies may conceiv- 

* Rose, quoted in Furness, p. 429. 
^Shakespeare, p. 271. 
« O^). cit., p. 274. 

* Shakespearea/n Tragedy, p. 203. 



23 i Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

ably miss them. Her shortcomings camiot be glossed 
over, as has been attempted by the writers mentioned; 
but on the other hand it is not necessary to let them 
crowd out of view her many excellences. Some writers, 
such as Heraud and Snider, have probably unduly 
magnified her weakness. A true criticism will depend 
on the play itself for the facts and for the inferences. 
With all her beaut}^ and devotion, and with all the 
many charms of character she possesses, nevertheless, 
the fact cannot be ignored that her w^ilfulness, her in- 
discretion, and her romantic impulsiveness were danger- 
ous qualities, and in the peculiar conditions of her 
marriage with Othello it was these that worked out 
her undoing. Under other conditions they might not 
have developed into anything serious, but it was the 
art of Shakespeare to place her in conditions that would 
show the essential character of her mind and bring out 
her passion. Her relations with Othello were such 
conditions, and her character was soon shown as one 
that would not disdain to use her influence with him 
to reward her favorites, and to upset the traditions 
of military advancement. There need be little sur- 
prise, then, that she loses the confidence of her hus- 
band. And with Othello as her husband, this was to 
sow the seeds of tragedy. 

It would be easy to make too much of her little 
"fibs," especiall}^ of that about the handkerchief. But 
her innocent self-blackening as slie la}' on her death- 
bed was a kind of perverseness. Her whole tone was 
apologetic for her husband, and indicated an uncon- 
scious appreciation of the fact that all her life with him 
was false and unnatural. It is only to show this trait 
of character as belonging to her family to observe as 
Lloyd has done that the punishment falls upon her 



Othello 235 

father as well as upon her. Brabantio no doubt was 
the first ^'to belie his own daughter's chastity" as 
Lloyd remarks,^ but he too was punished. Not 
having been true to herself in the beginning, it 
was not to be expected that she should always be 
regarded as true to her husband. Her continued 
interest in Cassio betrayed unconsciously the unsatis- 
fied spiritual union with Othello. She thought she was 
''Subdued even to the very quality" of her lord; but 
a marriage that calls for either one to be "subdued" 
to the other is not an equal marriage, and is in constant 
danger. There were so many obstacles to a natural 
/ and happy marriage between Othello and Desdemona, 
. that it is very doubtful if any lago was really needed 
\o foment an internal conflict sooner or later. It 
would be only a most fortunate turn of events or of 
chance if such a marriage were to escape disaster. 

The ease with which evidence to- refute lago is ob- 
tained after the death of Desdemona proclaims the 
fatalism that dogged Othello's steps. Emilia has but 
to tell what she knows about the handkerchief, and that 
ghost is slain. The part-confession of lago, and the 
explanations of Cassio, fully dissolve the remaining 
evidence into nothing and convince Othello that he 
has been grievously duped. But in spite of his mar- 
riage, Othello had no real union with Desdemona, and 
did not enter in any way into the more intimate life 
of her spirit. Othello as a Moor lived in real isolation 
in Venice, and nowhere in the play had he any bosom 
friends. He had no companions except his own under- 
officers, and now even lago appears as his friend only 
to serve his turn upon him. He was admired and 
honored as a soldier by the Venetians, by lago as well 
^ F unless, p. 80. 



X 



236 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

as by Brabantio, but nowhere was received as one of 
themselves except by the ill-fated Desdemona. Hence 
Othello could not gain from others the evidence to 
refute lago, for he was not on sufficiently intimate 
terms with any. 

It is to Othello's credit that his grief at his fatal 
error is unbounded, and he expresses himself in what 
is probably the most passionate self-reproach in Shake- 
speare. He nobly accepts the responsibility as his own, 
and condemns himself for it all, even forgetting in his 
self-loathing to attach any blame to lago. He recog- 
nizes it as his own tragedy, not blaming Desdemona 
in the least. She had joined her life to his, and so 
shared his fate, but the two were in no such manner 
co-agents in the tragedy as were Antony and Cleopatra. 
We pity Desdemona and we pity Othello, scarceW know- 
ing which to pity most, for to both the whole thing was 
a mistake rather than a crime. But it was primarily 
Othello's mistake, as the naming of the play implies. 
The greater age and experience, and presumabh^ the 
greater wisdom, must make Othello chiefly responsible 
for the tragedy. As we think it all over, Othello's many 
excellent qualities and his undoubted devotion to th( 
fair Desdemona come to our mind, and we cannot con- 
demn him as bitterly or think of him as harshly as he 
thinks of himself: 

"O, cursed, cursed slave! 
Whip me, ye devils, 

From the possession of this heavenly sight: 
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur, 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire. 
Oh, Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, Oh!" 

(V. ii. 339-344.) 

When it was all over, Othello came to a clearer vision, 
and saw the elements of tragedy that had entered into 



Othello 237 

Iiis marriage, and saw that these were nothing else 
than his own personal and racial character and his 
own conduct. He begged that explanation might be 
made, and with infinite pathos besought his friends not 
to think unduly hard of him, for he had meant well: 

"I pray you in your letters, 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
Speak of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate. 
Nor set aught down in malice. 
Then must you speak. 

Of one that lov'd not wisely, but too well: 
Of one, not easily jealous, but being wrought, 
Perplexed in the extreme." 

(V. ii. 413-4^) 

This should rid even the harshest critic of speaking any 
condemnation, and bespeak for Othello the fullest 
measure of sympathy and pity. We respect him all 
the more, and are the more convinced of the sinceritv 
of his love for Desdemona, from the fact that he can- 
not endure to prolong his own life after he has slain 
his "sweet love." 



vni 

The "moral" of Cinthio's novel cannot be taken off- 
hand as the moral of Shakespeare's play. The drama- 
tist had a way of infusing his own dramatic purpose into 
stories already devoted to a quite different aim. Many 
differences are to be noticed between the novel and 
the play. In the romance, Desdemona meets death at 
the hand of lago, by arrangement with Othello, — a 
more gruesome and more unlikely fate than that 
assigned by Shakespeare. If Desdemona is to be killed 
at all, and by the conventions of the tragedy of the 
day this seems inevitable, then it should be by the 



238 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

one with whom she had tlie most vital conflict. This 
person was undoubtedly no other than Othello him- 
self, for it is her marriage with him that is the real 
fatality. In order to emphasize this, Shakespeare has 
greatly changed her relations with lago, and has made 
much more prominent than Cinthio her relations with 
Othello. Consistently with this change in point of view, 
the dramatist must change also her executioner, and 
accordingly gives this horrible task to her husband. 
The play is Othello's play, and the chief conflict is 
with his wife. Othello must therefore w^ork out to the 
bitter end the collision which he began. 

In the romance, again, Othello is banished, and in 
the end is discovered and put to death by Desdemona's 
kinsmen. But this improperly regards and treats him 
as a criminal. Othello was not a criminal, for he did 
not plan the harm of any one, and w^as not distinctly 
conscious of wronging Desdemona in the marriage, and 
even in her death he thought he was only undoing a 
wrong. His remorse comes from seeing his mistake, 
and is not a moral repentance for a great and recog- 
nized crime. He had scarcely thought of marriage 
with Desdemona at all, much less did he deliberately 
plan an elopement, until her own words gave him a 
hint. But as he was much older and more experienced, 
he virtually took advantage of her youth and inno- 
cence, and, moreover, defied both her father and the 
custom of the state. If the marriage was a failure 
it was he that made it such, and he should be the avenger 
of the wrong upon himself. The distinctive yet bar- 
baric qualities that made his marriage fail were the 
very qualities that also made it impossible for him to 
survive the failure. 

The dramatist makes Cassio, the innocent object of 



Othello 239 

Desdemona's concern and the innocent means of offence 
to lago, very properly survive and succeed to the 
governorship. He had both good and bad qualities, 
but at no time contrived against the welfare or life 
of any. There is nothing in the play to make us 
think that he sought to dispossess lago in accepting 
the position of lieutenant to Othello. Even by the ad- 
mission of lago, he was "a very proper man," and 
though inexperienced in war, he was educated for high 
military positions, and had the confidence of the sensrte, 
and was chosen to succeed Othello once the pressing 
danger from the Turks was past. Into his hands as 
such lago was committed at the close of the play for 
torture and punishment for his part in the catastrophe. 
The romance of Cinthio represents lago as put to death, 
but Shakespeare evidently thought his intrigues were 
not without cause, if not without justification, and left 
it to Cassio to determine his punishment. 

From this conclusion of the play, it seems impossible 
to escape the conviction that according to Shakespeare 
intrigue was only the outer form of the tragedy, not 
its essence. At bottom, as with all the plays of Shake- 
speare, it was a tragedy of character. Like that of 
Romeo and Juliet the new marriage was subject from 
the first to an external conflict, but unlike Romeo and 
Juliet it also had from the outset a deep internal 
dissension that finally was the cause of its disruption. 
The sweet and pure love of Romeo and Juliet could 
rise above the rivalry of their contending houses, and 
in the end managed to resolve the age-long conflict. 
But the essential conflict of Othello and Desdemona 
was emphasized by every difficulty in their lives, and 
the tragic end points the moral of the danger of such 
incongruous marriages. 



240 Hamlet, an Ideal Pri/nce 

lago is therefore not the cause of the tragedy, which 
lies deeper in the unnatural union of two such diverse 
spirits as Othello and Desdemona. The theme of the 
play is not the manner in which the happiness of a 
newly-wedded pair can be destroyed by intrigue and 
lies, but the subject of the play is the vain attempt of 
a Moor, noble but barbaricj to live the life of a Venetian, 
as the husband of a Venetian maid. His marriage 
with Desdemona is the occasion of difficulty with one of 
his subordinate officers, and this in turn reacts upon 
his married relationships and destroys him. The 
trouble with him was that he was essentially uncivilized. 
Surrounded by all the forms and institutions of culture 
he remained barbaric. In the midst of the highest 
civilization he retained the rude instincts of his fathers. 
Possessed of the highest intellectual training that the 
military life could give he was yet ungoverned by 
reason but by passion. Othello had enjoyed the ad- 
vantages of Venice, but he had not attained to its level 
of civilization. He had acquired the forms but had not 
achieved the moral standards of Venetian culture. 

Shakespeare is evidently trying to show that civili- 
zation at bottom consists of moral culture. Othello 
had intellectual ability, he had acquaintance with the 
ideals of civilization, and yet he remained at heart a 
barbarian. He had not developed the high sense of 
honor and right that constitutes true culture. He 
was lacking in the moral sense that alone distinguishes 
barbarism and civihzation. His honor had not kept 
pace Avith his culture, and his moral nature had not 
been trained as much as his mind. Lacking the civilized 
moral nature the instruments of culture and the oppor- 
tunities of Venice became for him only the means of 
his own destruction. 



Othello Ml 

This is the character of some of the great tragedies 
of men and of nations. Intellectual training, even the 
highest education, does not make either a man or a 
nation civilized. A culture that has no moral basis, 
but is built on intellectual attainments, is not true civi- 
lization at all. An unmoral civilization is only barbar- 
ism, and a culture that has no sense of honor is only 
savagery. Not having moral discernment, it does not 
recognize its own brutality, but like Othello boasts of 
its superior nature. Othello had acquired enough Vene- 
tian culture to demand the highest honor of those about 
him, but had not attained the moral character that 
would extend the same honor to them. Though bap- 
tized he had not acquired the Christian moral virtues, 
and the grace of giving only what he would take. 
He was still essentially barbaric ; he was not thoroughly 
Christian. 

There is no doubt that it was the opinion of the 
dramatist that Othello's inability to rise to a real moral 
character was due in large part to his inferior nature. 
Othello was morally dull and obtuse because he was a 
Moor. Without the deep moral sense of the civilized 
nations, Othello is unable to bear up under the weight 
of the higher requirements of life in his adopted city. 
He has brought with him his lower Moorish nature, 
and it will not bear the strain. He has attained the 
intellectual but has failed to acquire the moral ele- 
ments of civilization, and his pride and ambition de- 
stroy him. Under the weight of cultivated life, two 
classes of persons inevitably fail ; those of a lower type 
who destroy themselves with the instruments of culture, 
and the defective of the same type who are the criminal 
class. Shakespeare has many studies of persons of tlie 
latter class, but only one of the former, namely, Othello. 



242 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

There need be no quarrel with Shakespeare about his 
views of race inequality. In the days of the opening 
up of the new world, and of the discovery of new 
peoples in the old, the European nowhere found evidence 
of any race the equal of those on his own continent. 
Shakespeare himself probably had little or no acquaint- 
ance with non-European races, but drew his conclusions 
about race inferioritv from what we miofht now resrard 
as insufficient evidence. Nevertheless, except for those 
who reason from a priori grounds, the world is still 
waiting for evidence of the equality of the races. The 
doctrine of equality seems a splendid and noble thing, 
provided your daughter is already safely married to 
one of your own race. It is quite possible, of course, 
that difference does not mean inequality, but difference 
is almost as much a barrier to a happy marriage. For 
the interpretation of the drama, at any rate, we must 
let Shakespeare have his way, and permit him to infer 
that Othello's fatal shortcomings are due to his 
Moorish blood. Perhaps with a dusky bride in Mauri- 
tania Othello might have been not only a great general, 
but a happy and unsuspicious husband. But in Venic» 
he met only disaster. 

In every way Shakespeare has greatly enlarged the 
meaninor of Cinthio's novel. The romance draws the 
lesson that Desdemona is a warning to Italian ladies 
not to ''wed a man whom nature and habitude of life 
estrange from us." ^ Quite different is the dramatist's 
meaning. Shakespeare's larger theme is not the ill- 
assorted marriage of Othello and Desdemona, but tht 
sad career of the Moor, Othello, as an ill-adjusted 
citizen of Venice, who because of his inferior nature 
gets into fatal difficulties with his Venetian subordinate 
^ Eng. trans, in Furness, p. 384. 



Othello 243 

and with his Venetian wife. The fatal marriage is but 
one of his difficulties, though it is the most absorbing in 
interest and the most tragic. 

We all sincerely pity Othello, because of his inherent 
nobleness. He did naught in malice, as he wished none 
would do to him. But in the intricate and trying rela- 
tions of his adopted life in Venice, and especially of 
his marriage with the fairest of Venetian maidens, he 
was "perplexed in the extreme," and gave way under 
the strain. His barbaric passion overcame him, and 
unable to recover himself, he went forward to his 
wife's and his own destruction. His primitive spiritual 
nature was not equal to the life of the highest civiliza- 
tion. His rude nobleness could not meet the demands 
of a finer moral culture, and he went down to defeat. 
But we do not condemn him, for his motive was not 
evil. We only pity him, and weep over the fate of both 
Othello and his Venetian bride. 



KING LEAR: 

A TRAGEDY OF DESPOTISM 



\ 



CHAPTER V 
KING LEAR: 

A TRAGEDY OF DESPOTISM 



THE play of King Lear has probably evoked from 
readers and critics alike more definite apprecia- 
tion of the play as a whole and more dissent from 
certain phases of the development of the plot than any 
other of the great plays of Shakespeare. As a work of 
dramatic art, and as a portrayal of the intensest human 
passion, the play has been accorded unstinted praise. 
The tremendous passions of the various persons, and 
their ungoverned indulgence, have given a titanic 
strength to the drama that all have readily felt, and 
that critics have said cannot be reproduced by any 
actors. The supreme artistic skill displayed by the 
dramatist in the construction of the mighty play has 
compelled all to stand in awe at his unparalleled genius. 
The acknowledged improbability of the action has not 
detracted from the full recognition of the intense 
human probability of the passion. Perhaps more than 
any other Shakespearean play, the plot seems framed 
for the portrayal of the passions, rather than the 
passions for the plot. The passions of both plot and 
underplot arc^ intensely human, and each helps to makr 
the other appear more dramatically real. 

247 



248 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

But there has not been such unanimity concerning 
Shakespeare's conduct of the narrative. Beginning 
with Doctor Johnson, there has been a strong inclina- 
tion, much more than is the case with other plays, to 
doubt the instinct and judgment of the dramatist in 
the treatment of the characters in relation to the plot. 
The changes made by Shakespeare in the story, these 
critics think, are a serious departure from the usual 
good dramatic judgment of the author. The altera- 
tion he made in the story of Cordelia, giving her a 
tragic ending, they think, is a lapse from the justice 
and appropriateness that ordinarily mark his moral 
judgment. For almost two centuries, therefore, Shake- 
speare's conclusion to the story was repudiated, and 
other versions substituted by all great actors. It is 
only quite recently that in this and in other matters 
public opinion has come round to the dramatist's ver- 
dict, and restored the true Shakespearean versions, 
though still not without the misgivings of many. 

There has been little question, however, about the 
dramatic relations of the various persons to one an- 
other, though the theme of the play, or the meaning of 
the story as a whole, has often been misconceived. 
Everybody understands the relations that exist between 
Lear and his daughters, but a mistake is frequently 
made in thinking that the theme is the ingratitude of 
the daughters, and the consequent suffering on the 
part of their father. We are only beginning, however, 
to display a confidence in Shakespeare, and to take his 
statements on such matters as all but final. In all the 
various editions for which he can in any way be re- 
sponsible the play is named after the king himself. 
The story is primarily the story of King Lear, and only 
incidentally the story of the daughters. The quartos 



( 



King Lear 249 

of 1608 both call it The True Chronicle Historie of the 
Life and Death of King Lear and his three Daughters; 
but in the folio of 1623 the name of the king alone 
appears in the title, which reads The Tragedie of King 
Lear, The reference to the Chronicle History has 
disappeared, and the daughters are no longer men- 
tioned in the title. This is in accordance with the true 
theme of the play, which portrays primarily King 
Lear in the mental and moral imbecility that developed 
with his growing habit of despotism, and only second- 
arily the tragic effects of this despotism in the in- 
gratitude of his daughters. 

The parallel action of the Duke of Gloucester and 
his sons helps to make the main dramatic action clear, 
and to emphasize the part of Lear himself. But it 
complicates the plot to such an extent that many see 
in the play very grievous faults of construction. It 
may be said, however, that what tends to make the 
main theme more prominent, and to reflect light upon 
it, cannot really interfere with the unity of the whole 
or weaken its general eff'ect. 

The discussion of the double story has long been 
carried on, but no better defence has been made than 
by Schlegel. After speaking of the resemblances and 
the contrasts between the plot and the underplot, he 
says that the additional case of trouble between father 
and children portrayed in the Gloucester story adds 
imaginative probability to the Lear story, by leaving 
the impression that those were the days of foolish 
parents and ungrateful children. They are both un- 
usual and unnatural. "But two such unheard of ex- 
amples taking place at the same time have the appear- 
ance of a great commotion in the moral world; the 
j)icturc becomes gigantic and fills us with such alarm 



250 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

as we should entertain at the idea that the heavenly 
bodies might one day fall from their appointed 
orbits." ^ It would seem that in King Lear the drama- 
tist was not only working out his views of individual 
human life, but that now at last he was definitely 
working on a world view, and had passed from the 
individual to the universal order. 

With this in mind, it would seem to be a great mis- 
take to resign ourselves, as some do, to the conception 
that the play is an enigma, and that it is impossible to 
justify the dramatist in his modifications of the origi- 
nal plot. ]Many critics do not believe the play is or is 
intended to be a solution of the problem presented, 
but are content, with Professor Dowden, to speak of 
"the moral myster}", the grand inexplicableness of the 
play." ^ The same writer consoles himself in this atti- 
tude of mind bj^ saying in the manner of a realist that 
"If life proposes inexplicable riddles, Shakespeare's art 
must propose them also." ^ 

But a mere portrayer of human life as he sees it, 
Shakespeare refuses to be. His grasp of life's prob- 
lems is too firm, and his insight too clear, to let his 
readers long think that he regarded life as a riddle. 
Life did not seem an enigma to the men of his genera- 
tion. In those "spacious times," with curious and 
wonderful new worlds opening continually to their 
astonished minds, life ma}^ have been a task, but it was 
not a puzzle. In those daj's, poets and philosophers 
alike were offering all sorts of solutions of life and its 
problems, and it is not likely that Shakespeare stood 
apart from his age. It may or may not be that the 

^Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, English trans., 
p. 412. 

' Shakspere — His Mind and Art, p. 2Q5, 13th edition. 
^Op, cit. p. 258. 



o-^ 



King Lear 251/ 

greatest of the poets was able to unravel the tangle 
of existence, but it is more than likely that he tried to 
do so, and that he regarded his drama as more than a 
mere statement of the problem. 

II 

The play is clearly Lear's story. It has been 
thought by some that the Gloucester story is the first 
thread of the drama.^ Though Gloucester rather 
than Lear participated in the opening conversation, 
it is Lear that is the subject, and it is Lear's action 
out of which everything develops. Lear's division 
of his kingdom is the first act recorded, and is the 
subject of the opening words of Kent and Glouces- 
ter, as Lear and his daughters come upon the stage. 
Apparently the division of the kingdom has already 
been decided upon, and all that remains is for the 
king to announce its actual accomplishment. But 
Lear has kept his purpose dark, and no one, not even 
Kent, can tell what principle shall govern in the 
division. It is suspected, however, by Gloucester that 
Lear will be influenced by the aff*ection he bears his 
several daughters and their husbands. 

As soon as he enters Lear proceeds to unfold his 
^'darker purpose" that he has not yet made known. 
All three daughters, it is likely, have known of his 
intention, and eagerly awaited the division. Calling 
for a map he announces that he has made the division 
into three parts, but that he has not yet determined 
to which of his daughters to give each part. Appar- 
el ntly he has not made an equal division, though from 
his words to Albany and Cornwall it may be inferred 
^ Snider, op. cit. 



252 \ Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

that two of the parts are substantially equal. This is 
later made clear when he tells Regan her portion is 

"No less in space, validity, and pleasure, 
Than that conferr'd on Goneril." 

(I. i. 80-1.) 

But the third division reserved for Cordelia was "more 
opulent" than that given to her two sisters. Thus 
w^ould he show his preference for Cordelia. The other 
two had long been aware of his partiality, as Goneril 
later reminds Regan, "He always loved our sister most." 
(I. i. 298-9.) 

Lear's division of the kingdom is generally considered 
a mere whim, and evidence of his fantastic character.^ 
Such a policy of favoritism could result only in jeal- 
ousy and strife, and in a primitive state of society 
possibly in civil or tribal war. Even if the principle 
of division had been good, the scheme itself was bad, 
and with tw^o such queens as Goneril and Regan, there 
would surely have been trouble. But with his foolish 
plan for the division, the fiercest kind of conflict was 
altogether likely. 

Though Lear would seem to divide the realm accord- 
ing to the love his several daughters had for him, his 
real intention was to make the largest gift to Cordelia, 
whom he thought loved him most, and from whom he 
expected the greatest returns of gratitude. He ex- 
pected, of course, that she would prove the one who 
loved him most. There was but slight desire on his 
part to abnegate himself, but he liad instead a strong 
though unconscious desire to exalt himself in the act of 
parting with his kingdom. He kept as we say a string 
to his kingdom, and while seeming to part with it, 
would make it more truly than ever liis own, by attach- 
* Cf. Franz Horn, Furness's Variorum King Lear, pp. 451-2. 



King Lear 253 

ing his daughters more completely to him. He would 
give his kingdom to his daughters only in exchange for 
a more complete devotion to him, and would make them 
pledge their very souls to him in the act of inheriting 
his kingdom. Lear would make his little world more 
completely ego-centric than ever, and would give the 
most opulent part only to the one completely devoted 
to him. Their love, not his, was to be the measure of 
their inheritance, and their love for him he thought 
would be his best guarantee of continued and even 
greater deference.^ 

Lear was not, however, without some real affection 
and generosity, and some desire to please his daugh- 
ters. His wish to gratify their ambition was sincere, 
but was not his strongest motive. He was not, how- 
ever, conscious of any other motive, and credited him- 
self solely with generosity, though as the action de- 
velops we can see that his scheme was after all but the 
best way of serving his own interests. Instead of being 
king of Britain he would become ruler over the three 
queens of Britain, and by this means his sceptre like 
mercy would be enthroned in the hearts of kings, and 
be more secure than any other form of power. 

The days of King Lear were the days of absolute 
monarchs. This conception taken from an earlier 
age, Shakespeare transferred and applied to his own, 
which had not yet entirely settled the matter of 
sovereignty with their kings. In the days of Queen 
Elizabeth, and still more in those of James the First 
when the play was written, the rights of sovereigns was 
a very live question. Shakespeare, interested in the 
moral and spiritual life of individuals, had evidently 

^ Cf. Tolstoi's curious conception of King Lear, in his essay 
on Shakespeare. 



254 / Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 



/ 



studied this problem of tyranny very carefully. The 
effects of absolutism on the political and even spiritual 
life of the people were well known, but no one before 
had attempted to depict its dire influence upon the 
king himself. In King Lear the dramatist undertakes 
to portray the blighting effects of absolutism on the 
spirit of the monarch, and to show that the other 
evils grow from this. It is not the subjects of despots 
who suffer most, but the despots themselves. No per- 
son can enslave another without subjecting himself to 
a worse bondage. Slaves are less injured by slavery 
than are the masters. 

Shakespeare had given much thought to the question 
of kings. In the plays based on English history he 
had depicted kings good and bad, and had shown 
something of his conception of the true king in Henry 
the Fifth, the last of the series. Then when he came 
to the period of his greatest tragedies, he again dealt 
with the problem of monarchy. In Julius Ccesar he 
had shown the danger of ambition for power, and in 
Macbeth, generally considered earlier than King Lear, 
had shown how utterly debasing an unscrupulous desire 
for kingship may become. Now in King Lear he takes 
up the legendary story of Lear and exhibits what Snider 
has well called "the disease of absolute authority." ^ 
Shakespeare pictures King Lear, under the fawning- 
obedience and flattery of his subjects and his family, 
as developing an almost infinitely exaggerated concept 
tion of himself, and as finally going to pieces on this 
submerged rock of egoism. 

It is not sufficient explanation of the improbable and 
exaggerated conditions depicted in King Lear to say 
that Shakespeare refers them to tlie barbarous times 
* Op. cit., p. 155. 



King Lear \256 / 

of Celtic Britain. Though the names and incidents 
are taken from that early period, the problems and 
the passions belong rather to the dramatist's own time. 
A mistaken tendency is shown by some critics in sup- 
posing that because Shakespeare had the universal habit 
of mind, he therefore did not have the particular; 
that because he belongs to all time he wrote for no 
special time. But there need be no doubt that the 
man who never, probably, published one of his dramas, 
wrote with his eye particularly on his own age and 
country. Though he draws his stories from all ages, 
Shakespeare, not having the historian's but the poet's 
trmper, writes strictly for his contemporaries.^ 

A growing tendency among critics, unfortunately not 
yet become universal, is to study Shakespeare in the 
light of his own age. Even if the dramatist did lack 
the historic sense, there is no excuse for students of our 
age to ignore history, but all the more reason to view 
Shakespeare as an Elizabethan. It is because he 
ignored, as was inevitable, the inner and even many 
of the outer differences between his own and earlier 
ages, that we must be especially careful to remember 
that Shakespeare was an Elizabethan. Lear and other 
such plays cannot be explained, therefore, by referring 
them to the barbarism of earlier times. Shakespeare 
was giving us a picture of Elizabethan passions, in- 
tensified for purposes of study, and embedded in a 
Celtic environment. The outer forms only belonged 
to a legendary period, and these not with true historical 
accuracy; but the problem of the play was modern 
in Shakespeare's day, and for that matter is still 
modern. Absolutism has by no means disappeared 
even from communities avowedly democratic, and is 

^Cf. Snider, of. cit., p. 129. 



r. 



25^^ Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

the special vice of certain modern institutions. And 
no one was better able than Shakespeare to depict 
the evils attendant upon tyranny.-^ 

True to the spirit of the despot, Lear has no inten- 
tion of laying aside any real power in transferring his 
kingdom to his daughters. Coleridge has noticed 
"Lear's moral incapability of resigning the sovereign 
power in the very act of disposing of it." ^ Kreyssig 
says: "It is only the burthen and duties of empire 
that the tired old king wishes to be rid of. That his 
regal rights can suffer changes, never occurs to him." ^ 
Snider says : "Tired of the cares of government, yet not 
weary of its pomp and outward show, he proposes to 
resign the reality of power and yet retain its appear- 
ance — to play the king and yet be freed from the 
troubles of kingship." ^ 

With these opinions about Lear there can be little 
dispute. The old king makes only a show of self- 
abnegation. In the very act of giving away he makes 
new and greater demands than ever. He gives away 
only the burdens and not the prerogatives of king- 
ship, yet wishes his act to be thought magnanimous. 
He transfers the duties but not the rights of sov- 
ereignty, yet desires to be considered generous. His 
love for his daughters has none of the marks of sacri- 
fice, but demands a more complete sacrifice and sub- 
jection on their part.^ This it is important to notice 
if we are to understand the development of the play, 
for it is on this pseudo-sacrifice that the plot ulti- 
mately turns. 

*C/. Snider, op. cit. p. 152. 
^ Of. cit, pp. 335-6. 

* English trans, in Furness, p. 461. 

* Op. cit., p. 153. 

» Of. Snider, op. cit. p. 157. 




King Lear 

Thus is seen the effect of absolutism on the moral 
nature of Lear. In acquiring unlimited sovereignty 
over his dominion and over his family, he had com- 
pletely lost sovereignty over himself. His whims and 
his caprice have utterly usurped the seat of govern- 
ment in his bosom, and he has become the servant and 
even the slave of unreasoning passion. He could no 
longer see himself as one among many, but thought of 
himself as the absolute ego, forgetting entirely the 
rights of other persons. His native vanity, so long 
flattered, had grown to an ungovernable passion, and 
had incapacitated him for considering anyone but 
himself. Hence even the apparent renunciation of the 
kingship was but a disguised attempt to gain still 
greater power. His daughters, who in growing into 
womanhood and in marrying had unconsciously passed 
partly from his control, would by this act once more 
be brought within his power. His apparent loosening 
of his hold on them would but bind them tighter to 
him. 



in 

Lear's scheme of the trial by professions of love was 
considered by Coleridge to be but a trick contrived 
by Lear to afford Cordelia an opportunity to show 
herself more worthy than her sisters, and thus win 
the most opulent third of the kingdom. He calls 
attention to the fact that Lear had the division all 
prearranged when he first appears in the play, and 
that he had planned to give Cordelia the largest part. 
The trial of love, then, was to give Lear an excuse to 
favor Cordelia, with whom he intended to live, for he 
had no doubt she loved him most, and would quite 



258 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

surpass her sisters in her declaration.^ To this whim, 
then, Lear would add favoritism, making his division 
of the kingdom doubly culpable and dangerous. Ulrici 
thought Lear's motive in the whole affair was to con- 
vince himself by the daughters' public avowal of love 
that he could abdicate without danger to himself.^ 
Professor Bradley, however, suggests that Lear's plan 
was not so inherently foolish as has been thought. ' He 
is the first, it seems, to observe that it was not part of 
Lear's intention to live alternately with his three daugh- 
ters, but only with his favorite, Cordelia: 

"I loved her most, and thought to set my rest 
On her kind nursery." 

(I. i. 122-3.) 

If this plan had been carried out, says Professor 
Bradley, ^'it would have had no such consequences as 
followed its alteration." ^ But it was its inherent bad 
qualities that prevented its success. No amount of 
wisdom on the part of Cordelia would have made 
Lear's foolish plan wise, but it might have discounted 
some of its folly, and rendered it less harmful. This 
is her condemnation, that she did not prevent her 
father's folly, when it was plainly her duty to accom- 
modate herself to the whims of his old age. 

The fatal error of Lear, apart from the inherent 
fatality of the original scheme, was to make the declara- 
tions of love an open trial. This gave a false advan- 
tage to the untrue but outspoken Goneril and Regan, 
and called upon the true love of Cordelia to take the 
form of adulation and flattery — a position always dis- 

^Cf, Perrett, Story of Lear from Monmouth to Shakespeare. 
Reviewed in Modern Language Review, October, 1905. Cf. p. 71. h 
' Cf. English trans, in Furness, p. 9. eC" 

^ Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 250. 



King Lear 263 

/ tion for her father in a manner that would at least save 
I him from being completely their victim, even though 
' such a declaration were distasteful to her. Her indig- 
nation was not against her father, but against her sis- 
ters, and her love for him, as was true also of Kent, 
was evidently not impaired by Lear's silly scheme of the 
trial. To state her love at this time would have been 
the acme of tact, and would have saved her from 
harder things in the future. 

Cordelia's stubbornness irritated and angered her 
father who was not accustomed to such rebuffs. Ex- 
pecting a hearty acquiescence he could not endure her 
sharp defiance. As he had accepted the hypocrisy of 
the elder two for a true love, so he misunderstood Cor- 
delia's silence as a challenge to him rather than a re- 
buke to her sisters, as it was intended. Kent was willing 
to incur Lear's wrath to try to save him from his folly, 
but Cordelia was unwilling to speak her love. Lear was 
therefore forced to give her ^'more opulent third" to 
her sisters, and his whole ungovernable nature burst 
into a violent rage. His chagrin at his disappointment 
was unbearable, and he immediately stripped Cordelia 
of the intended inheritance and repudiated his father- 
hood: 

"Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
Propinquity, and property of blood, 
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee from this forever." 

(I. i. 119-5.) 

A hard curse that later causes him a "sovereign shame.'' 
Lear's motive is condemned as selfish by the anger he 
showed at Cordelia's refusal to flatter. To a sincere 
and truth-loving mind Cordelia would not have ap- 
peared loveless, but to one who desired only flattery 



264 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

her answer was intolerable. Lear could brook no defi- 
ance, and least of all from the daughter he deemed the 
most obsequious. " 

Cordelia, nevertheless, is a lady of very great excel- 
lence. No doubt France speaks with a lover's fondness, 
but the play bears out all the good qualities he sees 
in her. (I. i. 249, fF.) The very fact that he as will- 
ingly takes her dowerless, as when he thought her a 
queen, speaks as well for his own worth as for hers. 
But Shakespeare has made her less excellent than in 
the old play of King Lear, where she was 

\ "so nice and so demure: 

\ So sober, courteous, modest, and precise,"* 

that she is the envy of her less virtuous sisters. In 
Shakespeare she is still the favorite of her father, but 
not quite the angel of the old play. The change in her 
character is no doubt made to emphasize the tragic 
aspects which Shakespeare saw in her from the first, and 
which he later makes explicit, though he leaves her suf- 
ficient virtue to win our love and pity. 

The disinheritance and banishment of Cordelia are 
an extreme penalty, and unworthy of Lear. Because 
she could not give him more empty adulation than her 
sisters she has to suffer the loss of everything. The 
unworthy are rewarded because they are base enough 
for flattery, and the worthy is cast out because too 
honest for flattery and too noble for intrigue. Goneril 
and Regan had professed love in accordance with their 
ambitions rather than their aff^ections, and were re- 
warded with all. But to an understanding heart there 
was more love in Cordelia's silence than in all the fine 
phrases of her designing sisters. Lear was the only 
one who did not know this, and he did not see it be- 

* Furness, p. 393. 



King Lear 265 " 

cause he had become morally blind through lifelong 
indulgence. Vanity had seized hold upon his heart, 
and his better nature had decayed. The sisters rec- 
ognized his folly, and Goneril afteiward remarked to 
Regan that "He always loved our sister most ; and with 
what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears 
too grossly." (I. i. 288-290.) As the late Professor 
Caird says : "It is wilfulness, exaggerated to the point 
of putting evil for good, and good for evil, that makes 
Lear banish his one dutiful daughter, and raise up the 
cold-blooded Goneril and the bitter selfishness of Regan 
to be his tormentors." ^ 

None know better than the sisters that Lear has 
committed an act of grievous folly. To each other 
they speak of it, Regan attributing it to "the infirmity 
of his age," and Goneril saying that "The best and 
soundest of his time hath been but rash," and blaming 
his act on "the unruly waywardness that infirm and 
choleric years bring with them." (I. i. 291-297.) This 
recognition of the imbecility of his old age instead of 
making them more indulgent toward him but leads them 
doubly to despise his weakness. The further banish- 
ment of Kent is but additional evidence to them that 
their father is now subject to "unconstant starts," and 
puts them in fear that such outbreaks may occur at 
any time. With no feeling of tenderness toward him, 
they are only apprehensive that they will have trouble 
with him in the future. 

The underplot differs from the Lear story in that 
the faithless son, Edmund, is first humiliated by his 
father's brazen acknowledgment of his illegitimacy be- 
fore he began to conspire against the faithful son, Ed- 
gar. In the plot the primary conflict is between the 
* Contemporary Review, Vol. LXX. p. 825. 



266 Hainlet, an Ideal Prince 

father and the faithful daughter, until it is transferred 
to the faithless. In the underplot it is between the 
faithless and the faithful son, until the father is de- 
ceived into joining the faithless son. Both stories, as 
has been said, present the father's tragedy, and the 
fact that in one case the conflict is with daughters and 
in the other with sons precludes the view that the 
dramatist lays the blame for such conflicts on either sex. 
The desire to prevent such an interpretation may be 
one reason for Shakespeare's combination of the 
Gloucester story with the tragedy of Lear. 

IV 

As was to be expected, Lear's retention of "The 
name and all th' addition to a King" (I. i. 135) im- 
mediately made trouble in the household of Goneril. 
The course of education he had given his daughters, 
and the example he had set them, were not conducive to 
soft compliance when once the power and authority 
were in their hands. "Till now," says Gervinus, "they 
had flattered him like dogs, they had said ay and no to 
everj^thing he said." ^ They had obeyed complacently 
as long as they must. But when obedience was no 
longer compulsory, they at once assumed to command, 
and after the manner of their father. They had obeyed 
so long as he was in command, but now that they are 
in control they expect obedience from him. The law 
of service he had inaugurated was still kept in force 
after he retired, but was less acceptable to him when 
their relations to it were reversed. Lear soon found 
himself unable to tolerate the treatment he received, 
and rebelled against the domination of his daughters, 
^Shakespeare Commentaries , Eng. trans, by Bunnett, p. 6:24. 



King Lear 267 

thus bringing the conflict to an acute stage. He could 
not see the defects in his own law of life until he and 
his daughters had exchanged places. He could not 
tolerate in them the same kind of sovereignty that he 
had himself exercised in the day of his power. 

Lear and Goneril were incompatible from the outset. 
Trouble began about Lear's censorious manner and the 
disorderly conduct of his hundred retainers. GoneriPs 
statement of the conduct of Lear's knights must be 
taken as true, as it is not the manner of Shakespeare to 
build dramatic actions on falsehoods. All such state- 
ments by persons of the drama must be taken as cor- 
rect when there is nothing in the play to the contrary. 
There is every reason to believe that Lear's attend- 
ants feeling their importance did conduct themselves 
more like rowdies than gentlemen. Not one of the 
charges Goneril makes against them is refuted by Lear 
or by any one else. Lear furthermore makes himself 
objectionable by his fault-finding and complaining, un- 
til Goneril exclaims he "upbraids us On every trifle." 
(I. iii. 6-7.) The trouble is that Lear cannot under- 
stand he has given away his authority with his king- 
dom ; and even the retention of the title of king does 
not secure him the subservience of his daughters and 
their households. He really intended to give nothing 
away, and is discomfited when he finds his authority 
gone: 

"Idle old man, 
That still would manage those authorities 
That he hath given away!" 

(I. iii. 17-19.) 

Kent's devotion to Lear under all conditions seems 
to brighten up the general darkness, and to show that 
Lear was not altogether unlovable. Kent's recollection 



268 Hamlet, an Ideal Prinze 

of Lear before the evil days had come keeps him faith- 
ful in the folly of the king's old age. The Fool's un- 
shaken allegiance when he knows full well that Lear 
has made an uncommon fool of himself points back to 
the days when Lear was wise. Lear's folly is not a 
lifelong failing, for men of the age of Kent ^ and 
Gloucester remember better days, though Goneril 
thinks that "The best and soundest of his time hath been 
but rash." (I. i. 293-4.) Old age has brought fool- 
ishness, and despotism has bred imbecility. Lear is 
not the man he was. Absolute power for so many years 
has debased his moral and spiritual nature. The price 
of tyranny, of despotic power over others, is to lose 
control of one's self. Lear still wishes to manage oth- 
ers when he has no power left to manage himself. He 
has so long been absolute that he cannot endure re- 
straint, and cannot restrain himself. To be under 
the sway of Goneril is more than he can bear. Lear 
therefore gets into a bitter conflict with Goneril that 
leads from bad to worse until both are undone. 

Lear's residence with Goneril is in every way disas- 
trous. As Goneril says, he sets them all to odds (I. iii. 
6). The dependents at once realize the change in au- 
thority, and before he has completed the arrangements 
connected with the division of the kingdom their obe- 
dience is less instant ("Who stirs?" I. i. 125). There 
is an immediate abatement of kindness and deference 
from all alike, the dependants as well as the daughters. 
Confusion reigns in the royal household, and Goneril 
informs her servants that they need pay little attention 
to Lear, and that "what grows of it, no matter." (I. 
iii. 24.) When Lear first notices the neglect, he hopes 
it is not meant for unkindness (I. iv. 66-7). But his 

^ Kent was 48 years old. Cf. I. iv. 38, and II. ii. 58. 



King Lear 269 

worst fears are realized when Goneril herself breaks out 
at him and complains of his "insolent retinue," and re- 
quests him "A little to disquantity your train" (I. iv. 
242), and to see that the remainder conduct themselves 
more orderly. 

The effect of this upon Lear reveals his character 
better than almost any other incident of the play. For 
the first time he recognizes the wrong done Cordelia: 

"O most small fault, 
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!" 
(I. iv. 260-1.) 

Intolerance and tyranny had become a habit with Lear, 
but when he could be made to see his wrong, he gladly 
acknowledged it. This characteristic will in the end 
prove a saving grace. But his moral vision has been 
dimmed, and he cannot think for a moment that he is 
in the wrong in his difBculty with Goneril. He roundly 
curses Goneril, disavowing his fatherhood, and begging 
heaven that her children may also be thankless. Not 
for a moment does he see that his own conduct has been 
at fault, but with burning fury and fiery indignation 
he refuses to stay longer with her, not dreaming he will 
be equally unwelcome with Regan. The arbitrary fea- 
tures that marked his rule when he was in authority 
are intolerable to Lear now they are exercised by his 
daughters. It is such reversed relationships as this 
that reveal to men the character of their own acts. 

Lear's mind had undoubtedly become weakened by 
the long course of his arbitrary and uncharitable use 
of power. In the bitter despair of his disappointment 
at Goneril he fears his mind may give way. He has 
not been accustomed to the necessity of self-control, 
and he now finds it quite impossible. He long ago lost 
his moral balance and now is in danger of losing his 



270 Hamlet, an Ideal Princs 

mental balance. His prayer to heaven to keep him 
from madness is very pathetic, but could come only 
from one who had long indulged a wild-horse temper, 
and who was beginning to be conscious of his weakness. 
In no way blaming himself, but charging all his 
troubles against GoneriPs hatefulness, Lear sweeps out 
of her house in a perfect storm of rage, and betakes 
himself to Regan, saying: 

^- "I have another daughter, 

Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable." 
(I. iv. 299-300.) 

Regan's absence from home at the Duke of Gloucester's 
causes him little discomfiture. But when she and her 
husband refuse to respond to his call to come out to 
him his rage bursts into a perfect fury. His pride and 
haughtiness are wounded, and the later interview con- 
firms the belief that Regan is as ungrateful as her sis- 
ter. 

Now, at last, the old king has estranged all his 
daughters, and begins to see the real situation. He is 
soon entirel}^ disillusioned when both join in the attempt 
to curtail his dignity, and to deprive him of his royal 
state, and show that they would even gladh^ be rid of 
him altogether. With awful suddenness he is brought 
to realize he is houseless and homeless, and, but for the 
faithful Kent and the Fool, entirely friendless. Having 
cursed and banished the one daughter that truly loved 
him, what inducement can he offer for the unloving to 
be faithful.^ They have now the authority, and they 
exercise it in the same arbitrary and heartless manner 
that he had done. They have but bettered the instruc- 
tion he gave them, and what more can he expect.? 

Cursing his daughters, and calling them ^'unnatural 
hags," Lear bursts out into the night, which the drama- 



King Lear 271 

tist to mark the sympathy of nature and man makes 
wild and tempestuous. But the storm in nature is 
nothing compared with the tempest in Lear's breast. 
The worst storms are caused by spiritual upheavals, 
not by natural disturbances. With a desperate effort 
at self-control Lear says, "No, I'll not weep. I have 
full cause of weeping." (II. iv. 280-281.) His re- 
straint of tears, however, is at the expense of an over- 
thrown mind, v/hich Lear himself foresees, "O fool, I 
shall go mad." Now is seen the spectacle so well de- 
scribed by Schlegel: "The threefold dignity of a king, 
an old man, and a father, is dishonored by the cruel 
ingratitude of his unnatural daughters : the old Lear, 
who out of a foolish tenderness has given away every- 
thing, is driven out to the world a wandering beggar."^ 
Lear is now in a condition the very opposite of what 
he expected from the division of his kingdom. Instead 
of added power, he is stripped of all power ; instead of 
increased reverence and devotion, he has only scorn 
and contempt ; instead of the enlarged love and attach- 
ment of all three daughters, he has the hatred of two, 
and separation from the third ; in place of a more com- 
fortable home for his old age, and the devoted attend- 
ance of his favorite, Cordelia, he has no home at all, 
and is forced out into the storm and tempest of the 
night, and glad to take refuge in the hovel of a bed- 
lamite, and rest on his pallet of straw. 

The bitter disappointment of Lear confirms the belief 
that the division of the kingdom was not meant to be a 
sacrifice, but a purchase of the complete devotion of 
his daughters at the expense of a partial relinquisli- 
ment of his kingdom. While seeming to give every- 
thing to his daughters, and to leave himself dependent 
^Op. cit. p. 411. 



272 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

on their bounty, he really intended to give them noth- 
ing substantial, but to collect from them a devotion 
that would be the best assurance of a dignified and royal 
old age. He was acting, indeed, more from selfishness 
and vanitv than from ofenerositv and kindness. 



The first glimpse of Lear in the storm and tempest 
of the night reveals the fact that his mind has turned. 
Some have regarded him as insane from the start, 
among whom are many of the medical writers.^ Others, 
with much better reason say he became insane early in 
the play." These differ about the exact point at which 
Lear's mind gives way, varying between his abdication, 
the cursing of Cordelia, the mock-trial of his daugh- 
ters, and certain other scenes. There is about as much 
difference of opinion among experts as in a modern 
crime of a wealthy young fool. In both cases alike 
an impartial jury finds it necessary to dismiss all spe- 
cialists, and to fall back upon common sense. In or- 
der, then, to reach a proper conclusion, we must con- 
sider not only the evidence of the text of the play, 
but its relation to the larger theme of the play, and to 
the Shakespearean drama in general. 

With the theme of the play in mind, it cannot well be 
maintained that Lear was insane from the first. If he 
were, the play would be but a mad-house tragedy, and 
of no value to supposedly sane persons. Shakespeare's 
tragedies all turn on moral not mental maladies, and 

* Fumess says that Mrs. Lennox was the earliest to say Lear 
was made from the outset, in her Shakespeare Illustrated, 1753-4. 
(Furness, 41:?.) Of the same opinion are Brigham (Furness, 
412-3) and Bucknill (Furness, 415-6). 

* E. g., Rav, cf. Furness, 413-14. 



Ki/ng Lear 273 

are tragedies of the moral life. The so-called early 
marks of madness are evidences of perverseness and 
folly rather than of insanity, unless this term is to be 
made wide enough to cover all foolish and criminal 
aberrations. The dramatist who would consider Lear 
mad from the start, and yet make a tragedy out of his 
career would himself be the really mad person. Lear's 
early conduct is certainly very erratic, but it is folly 
not madness, though that kind of criminal folly which 
leads to madness. It is this that is the theme of the 
drama — how a man because of indulging his vanity 
and selfishness lands at last in madness. 

Any other interpretation would tear the heart out 
of the drama. The play depicts the growth, fulness, 
and relief j)f Lear's madness, with the various influences 
affecting these. 'Lear goes mad only because he first 
goes wrong; and loses control of himself because he 
was too busy trying to manage others, and to subject 
them to the arbitrariness of his own perverse will. 
Shakespeare may or may not have known accurately 
all the marks of insanity, but he did know that a pam- 
pered and perverse egoism is one of the most prolific 
causes of madness. Absolutism always induces a kind 
of insanity, in monarchs as well as in men. Nobody 
knew better than Shakespeare the thinness of the veil 
that separates a deranged will and an unbalanced mind. 
Shakespeare would say to us that it is Lear's moral 
shortcomings that are responsible for his mental wan- 
derings. There may be plenty of cases where the mind 
is overthrown by physical conditions, but Lear's was 
unbalanced by a long course of moral perversity and 
egoism. His disease is spiritual rather than physical. 
Shakespeare at any rate treats it as sucIk and this 
must be his justification for holding Lear strictly to 



274 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

account. 

No doubt the ingratitude of the two faithless daugh- 
ters was the last straw to break the already over- 
strained mind of Lear. Somewhere, then, between 
Lear's departure from Gloucester's castle and his ap- 
pearance in the storm, the old king's wits actually fail 
altogether. Shakespeare's practice of reflecting the 
disturbed condition of the moral world in the storm and 
tempest of nature will help us to see that the breaking 
of the storm as he leaves Gloucester's castle marks the 
dramatic collapse of Lear s mind. Lear takes the rag- 
ing of the elements as a mark of nature's hostility, and 
tries to excite their pity by calling himself "a poor, 
infirm, weak, and despised old man." Then he re- 
proaches the elements for joining with his "two perni- 
cious daughters" and engaging in 

"Your hiarh ensrenderd battles 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. Oh ! Oh I 'tis foul !" 

(III. ii. 2S-^.) 

When Gloucester next sees him he pities Lear's dire dis- 
tress, not knowing he will soon lose his own eyes as Lear 
his wits. It was Lear's mind and Gloucester's eyes that 
led them astray, and in losing wits and eyes "the wheel 
is come full circle." 

Lear's mind is quite distracted by the time he meets 
Edorar as "Poor Tom," but with the culmination there 
are also signs of a spiritual purging that is to bring 
his restoration. The turning-point is reached in the 
arraignment and trial of his daughters, in which he 
demands justice upon them, not knowing that in the 
course of justice neither he nor they should see salva- 
tion. In the uncontrolled fury of his passion he soon 
completely exhausts himself, and collapses into a sooth- 
ing and healing sleep from which he wakes to a re- 



King Lear 275 

newed life. His passion has run its course, and has 
worn itself out. With his sleep the tide of passion has 
turned, and events have happened that open the way 
for his restoration. 

In the great tragedies of Shakespeare wrong-doing 
reacts upon the social order as well as upon the indi- 
vidual, and creates widespread confusion and disaster. 
The crime of Claudius puts all Denmark in trouble, and 
even endangers its peace with Norway. The crime of 
Macbeth makes civil war in Scotland and invites inva- 
sion from England. The wrong of Lear creates trouble 
in his family, and disorder in the kingdom, and even 
brings about an attack from France. Shakespeare 
saw clearly the social disintegration of evi], and he pic- 
tured it so that he who runs mav read. 



VI 

Cordelia at no time drops out of the play entirely. 
Her letter to Kent (11. ii. 161-2) shows that she has 
not lost interest in her father, and in Kent's "ob- 
scured course." Being cut off from Lear by her ban- 
ishment, she keeps in touch with him by a correspond- 
ence with Kent, and maintains spies in the country to 
inform her of the affairs of state. She had evidently, 
too, thought better of her haughtiness, and is now 
willing to accommodate herself to the conditions she 
cannot mend. Her life in France, in happy marriage 
with the King, has given her time for reflection, and she 
now seems to be awaiting an opportunity to undo the 
harm caused by her pride. The occasion comes with 
the division " 'twixt Albany and Cornwall," and now 
she is ready to send a French force to succor the old 
king. 



276 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

Cordelia's difference with her father had quickly 
given way to her love, and she began cautiously and 
slowly to try to ingratiate herself once more into his 
favor. When she found the occasion for intervention 
she quickly dispatched a force to his aid. At the same 
time Lear is going through a process of moral purging, 
and his mind and heart are getting ready for the recon- 
ciliation. Kent understands the moral process going 
on in Lear's soul, and discerns a consciousness of the 
wrong done to Cordelia that makes Lear ashamed to 
see her : 

"A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own unkindness 
That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her 
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 
To his dog-hearted daughters; these things sting 
His mind so venomously that burning shame 
Detains him from Cordelia." 

(IV. iii. 49-7.) 

But Cordelia, too, has now^ a different and a humbler 
spirit, and is willing even to give all her "outward 
worth" to him that will help restore her father's "be- 
reaved sense." It has been a fearful trial, but the fires 
have subdued and refined the spirits of both father and 
daughter. 

The tenderness with which Cordelia nurses her father 
back to sanity almost obliterates our memory of her 
first intolerance. The spirits of both have undergone 
a great transformation. Both have experienced a spir- 
itual earthquake that has shaken their being to the 
very foundations. Perhaps nowhere else has the 
dramatist penetrated so deeply into the very springs of 
life, and nowhere else has he better depicted two souls 
in the remaking. Their attitudes to each other have 
entirely changed. Lear now humbles himself before 
Cordelia, thinking her still hostile, and is willing to sub- 



King Lear 277 

mit to taking poison from her. Cordelia on her part begs 
his fatherly blessing, assuring him of her goodwill, and 
pressing upon him her kind offices. These he accepts 
when convinced of her kindness and requests her to 
"forget and forgive; I am old and foolish." (IV. vii. 
84-85.) But it is the dramatist's opinion that such 
wrongs cannot be settled merely by the reconciliation 
of the parties. The social order must be propitiated, 
and that is inexorable in its claims. The wrong must 
be adjusted, and if need be the parties must sacrifice 
themselves to this end. 

Most of the earlier forms of the Lear story present 
the old king as going over to Cordelia in France when 
turned out by his elder daughters. This is the case 
in Geoffrey of Monmouth, Holinshed, The Mirror for 
Magistrates, in the old play, in Spenser, and in the 
ballad, which may, however, be later than Shakespeare. 
The King Lear of Shakespeare is the only version of 
any importance in which Lear does not go over to 
France. Shakespeare must have had some good reason 
for so noticeable a departure from the earlier forms of 
the story. The change could not have been in the in- 
terest of unity of place, as this was a dramatic prin- 
ciple he frequently ignored. The more probable ex- 
planation is that he considered that for Lear to go to 
France would be a temporary escape from the conse- 
quences of his act, and this he could not allow. Shake- 
speare is as inexorable as nature in making a man stay 
by his act, and see it through to its bitterest extreme. 
Only in this way does its working effect that purging 
of the soul in which the dramatist showed so great an 
interest. 

The favorite explanation of Shakespeare's refusal 
to allow Cordelia's French forces to be successful 



278 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

against England is that his patriotism would not per- 
mit otherwise, and neither would that of the patrons of 
the theatre. Xo doubt this is true, but it is only a 
small part of the truth. While not indifferent to popu- 
lar and patriotic feeling, Shakespeare was generally 
governed by larger conceptions. The true explanation 
is probably to be found in the moral nature of the con- 
flict in which from the start Cordelia had forfeited any 
right to outward success. It was still possible for her, 
however, to wrest from the defeat a moral victory, and 
this the dramatist depicts her as winning. 

Nothing is more indicative of the change in father 
and daughter than the resignation with which they ac- 
cept defeat, and their composure when they find them- 
selves captives. They both have now mastered them- 
selves, and prison bars cannot make them slaves. The 
once haughty monarch readily accepts imprisonment 
so long as he has his beloved Cordelia with him. Th( 
absolute king assumes bondage with an equanimity that 
is the very antithesis of his original frame of mind. 
The man of authority is now deprived of all power, 
and under the surveillance of a petty official. The un- 
limited king submits to be deprived of all liberty, and 
confined within the walls of a prison cell, with a com- 
posure as unlike as possible the arrogance and egoism 
of his kingly mind. All he now wants is that Cordelia, 
whose mind is now as humble as his own, shall be his 
prison-mate and attendant : 

"Come, let's away to prison; 
AVe two alone will sing like birds i' the cage. 

So we'll live. 

And pray, and sin^, and tell old tales and laugh 
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news." 

(V. iii. 8-14.) 



King Lear 279 

Lear has learned his lesson, and Cordelia has learned 
hers. He has found out that love is the greatest thing 
in the world, and he now cares not how little else he 
has, provided he has love. All his assumed absolutism 
and autocracy have given place to meekness and docil- 
ity. He is willing now to exchange love (equality) 
with Cordelia, recognizing it as better than power (su- 
periority). Probably no character in Shakespeare ex- 
hibits such a "process of purification" before he learns 
the lesson of life that love is best. Professor Bradley 
very appropriately suggests that the play might well 
be called "The Redemption of King Lear." ^ But 
Lear's recovery is not to his former self, for his 
body and mind are greatly enfeebled. The process of 
his sorrow and its purging has brought a moral and 
spiritual recovery, but it has worn out his body and 
his mind. Lear is a new man spiritually, but physically 
he is now an old man and ready for the grave. 

Though acknowledging his wrong to Cordelia, Lear 
at no time came to admit any responsibility for the con- 
flict with Goneril and Regan, and did not see the wrong 
of his original scheme of division. It is very true that 
it was Cordelia rather than her sisters whose conduct 
brought into operation the hidden forces of evil that 
lay in the scheme. No responsibility placed on Cor- 
delia, however, can excuse the ungrateful behavior of 
the other two. Their schemes and counter-schemes, and 
the illicit love of both for Edmund, are but develop- 
ments of the same character that did violence to Lear. 
Shakespeare was of course unfamiliar with the many 
modern devices for shifting moral responsibility to the 
broad shoulders of heredity and environment, but lie 
was intimately acquainted with similar atteiiiptiMl eva- 
* Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 285. 



280 Hamlet, an Heal Prince 

sions under other names. To all of these he gives the 
answer of the universal moral sense that no such vicari- 
ous responsibility is possible. Though he traces care- 
fully the moral descent of Goneril and Regan and of 
Edmund, joined as they are in vice, he brings them all 
strictly to account, though he makes the two sisters 
suffer at their own hands. He does not let them fall 
into the hands of Cordelia, apparently thinking she had 
forfeited any right to be the nemesis of the play. Ed- 
gar, however, plays this part to Edmund. 

vn 

Shakespeare has been censured for changing the 
oricrinal storv, and lettinor Lear and Cordelia be brought 
to death. Dr. Johnson long ago gave voice to the pro- 
test, and little in addition has been said. •'Shake- 
speare," he says, **has suffered the virtue of Cordelia 
to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas 
of justice, to the hope of the reader, and. what is yet 
more strange, to the faith of the chronicles. A play 
in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous mis- 
carry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just rep- 
resentation of the common events of human life: but, 
since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I 
cannot easily be persuaded that the observation of jus- 
tice makes a plaV worse; or that, if other excellences 
are equal, the audience will not always rise better 
pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue/' ^ 
That is. Dr. Johnson excuses what he considers the 
lack of idealism only on the plea of realism. It is al- 
lowable, he says, for a dramatist to violate justice be- 
cause in actual life such violation often takes place: 

* "Introduction to Shakespeare." 



King Lear 281 

but even then he thinks it would be better for the 
dramatist to adhere strictly to justice. 

When Shakespeare took up the old story of King 
Lear he saw the characters of Lear and Cordelia in a 
very different light from all previous writers. The 
older writers make the issue of the conflict with the sis- 
ters a complete triumph for Lear and Cordelia. The 
old ballad alone makes the story tragic, Cordelia being 
slain in the battle and Lear dying upon her breast. 
It is thought, however, that the ballad is later, not 
earlier, than Shakespeare, leaving the dramatist as the 
first to turn the old comedy into tragedy. As he later 
did the reverse of this in The Winter's Tale, it must 
be conceded that he had some deliberate intention in 
such matters. The opinion is growing among stu- 
dents that Shakespeare showed a deeper insight into 
conduct and character than the old chroniclers and 
dramatists, and that whatever changes he made were 
in the interests of a higher justice. But Shakespeare's 
conception of poetic justice differed very greatly from 
that of lesser dramatists of his own and especially of 
succeeding periods. 

Criticism, however, is learning very slowly to have 
confidence in Shakespeare's moral judgment. With a 
few notable and eminent exceptions like Lamb, the 
dramatist's fellow countrymen have not endorsed his 
version of the story. Among recent critics Professor 
Herford is the most pronounced in saying that " 'Poetic 
justice' is sublimely defied in the doom of Lear and Cor- 
delia." ^ It remains for Professor Raleigh, however, 
to suggest that Shakespeare's imagination ran away 
with him. He says Shakespeare "had wound the 
tragedy up to such a pitch that a happy ending, as 
* Eversley Shakespeare, Vol. IX. p. 14. 



282 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

it is called, was unthinkable." ^ Many of the older 
English and German critics, however, have defended 
the dramatist. They have recognized in Shakespeare 
a great constructive thinker, whose imagination, 
though great, was never master of his thought. They 
have seen that it is in power of philosophic thought 
that he excelled, and not in imagination, if the fact 
that he invented few stories can be taken as of any 
significance. His work consisted rather in broaden- 
ing and deepening popular stories and chronicles, and 
making them the expression of '"the very life of 
things." 2 

Shakespeare was himself fully aware of the signifi- 
cance of the change he introduced into the story, and 
has anticipated the criticism that has arisen. When 
Lear enters with the dead Cordelia in his arms, howl- 
ing in the anguish of his grief, Kent exclaims, "Is this 
the promised end?" (V. iii. 264.) But in the course 
of events Kent becomes reconciled to the death of botli 
Cordelia and Lear. When others would prolong the 
life of the suffering king, he says : 

'^Vex not his ghost. Oh, let him pass ! he hates him 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer." 

(V. iii. 314-6.) 

* Shakespeare, p. 92. 

' Professor Bradley is quite hopeless, however, and says that 
"there never was vainer labour than that of critics who try to 
make out that the persons in these dramas meet with 'justice' 
or their 'deserts' " (p. :?79). He thinks that the way a play turns 
out depends on the period of Shakesp>eare's life in which it was 
written. **I l^elieve," he says, "Shakespeare would have ended his 
play thus [letting Lear and Cordelia live] had he taken the sub- 
ject in hand a few years later, in the days of CymheJine and 
The Winter's Tale'' (p. 25:3). A deeper study, however, will re- 
veal great differences between these plays and King Lear. 



King Lear S83 

All explanations of Shakespeare that overlook moral 
considerations are utterly futile. The conviction is 
growing in many quarters that Shakespeare's dealings 
with the characters are governed by the principles of 
the moral life. It is Shakespeare's greatness that in 
his drama as in the world "Moral causes govern the 
standing and the falling of men and nations. They 
save or destroy them by a silent, inexorable fatality." ^ 

The death of Cordelia is not, however, a simple, but a 
very complex, matter. She is first manifestly a victim 
of her own obstinacy. She saw clearly that her sisters 
were deceiving her father, and if she knew nothing 
worse about them than this, should have taken steps 
to save her father from them. Lear was predisposed 
to her, and nothing but her haughtiness prevented him 
from giving her "a third more opulent," and from find- 
ing the home of his old age with her. In the end, when 
she tried to undo the wrong she had done, she found 
her sisters so fully in control of affairs that she was 
compelled to sacrifice herself to her father's cause. We 
admire the whole-hearted devotion by which she at- 
tempted to atone for her fault, and almost forgive her 
for her pride. But no love however devoted can call 
back the stream of effects from her original act, or 
muzzle the tiger in her sisters. By her sacrifice she 
has purged her fault and has been purified in the proc- 
ess of time. But it must be said that her death was in- 
evitable, though we cannot but think that in the endy 
though in the end only, she is a saint and a martyr. 
The development of this character in her is one of the 
main themes of the play. 

There is but little trouble in accepting the drama- 

* Matthew Arnold, quoted by Vida D. Scudder, Atlantic Monthly, 
June, 1910, p. 838. 



284 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

list's verdict on Lear. He had long outlived his self- 
control, and it was only a matter of time arid occasion 
until he should commit some act of folly that would be 
his ruin and the probable ruin of his kingdom. That 
the kingdom was not destroyed is due rather to Provi- 
dence than to any saving grace in Lear or his daugh* 
ters. Lear's vanitv had in it elements of tragedv. Yet, 
though Shakespeare could not save Lear's life, such is 
his moral faith that this meanest and most selfish of 
vices is subjugated even in a king, and gives place to 
the virtue and gi'ace of humility. A more difficult spir- 
itual task can scarcely be conceived. Yet Shakespeare 
depicts the whole matter with consummate artistic skill, 
and presents it with an unwavering faith in the possi- 
bility of its eradication. 

Gloucester, meanwhile, is saved from himself by the 
skillful deception of Edgar in the famous Cliff Scene. 
By very careful manipulation of the blind old man 
Edgar brings him to his senses, and, as soon as he can, 
reveals himself to him. His devotion to his father has 
been truer than Cordelia's to Lear, for at no time does 
he get into an attitude of opposition or defiance, but 
patiently resigns himself to the injustice done him at 
the instigation of Edmund. For this heroic faithful- 
ness Shakespeare spares him to the end and brings 
him to a triumphant vindication. Nothing extraordi- 
nary happens to bring it about, but only the plain 
course of events. Shakespeare again shows a sublime 
faith in the moral order, and in its certaint}^ to bring 
ultimate triumph to right. Albany, too, who shows 
an excellent spirit, is brought through the play and 
made the heir of the entire kingdom. 

Tate's revision of King Lear, like all eighteenth cen- 
tury versions of Shakespeare, is now-a-days pretty 



KiTig Lear 285 

gGnerally discredited. But a careful reading neverthe- 
less reveals many features that even the twentieth 
century mind is at first disposed to legard as excel- 
lences. In making Edgar rather than 1 ranee the wooer 
and later the husband of Cordelia, Tate weaves the two 
stories of the play closer together than Shakespeare. 
The Gloucester story ceases to be a parallel and un- 
derplot to the Lear story, and becomes an integral part 
of the main movement. But his conclusion, in which he 
married Edgar to Cordelia, takes away Shakespeare's 
verdict on Cordelia's obstinacy, thus robbing the play 
of much of its moral meaning. Furthermore, his con- 
tinuance of Lear in a renewed life detracts from Shake- 
speare's pronouncement on the curse of absolutism 
on both the sovereign and the people, and destroys tlie 
Shakespearean conception that it is a fatal vice of 
kings. Opinions may differ about the artistic merits 
of Tate's version, but there cannot well be a denial that 
Shakespeare's has much the deeper spiritual meaning. 
It is here that Shakespeare always excels. Shake- 
speare's play is a kind of Final Judgment, in which as 

Albany says : 

"All friends shall taste 
The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
The cup of their deservings." 

(V. iii. 303-5.) 

Probably more than in any other play the development 
of the narrative separates the good and the bad, mak- 
ing the good better, and the bad worse, and finally lead- 
ing those ''more sinned against than sinning" into bet- 
ter ways. 

VIII 

The opinion has recently been expressed that the view 
of the world presented in King Lear is not the Christian 



286 HamUt, an Ideal rniui- 

conception.^ It is very difficult to sympathize witli 
this opinion, for it involves an erroneous view of Khuj 
Lear^ or of Christianity, or of both. Nothing couKl 
be more in accord with Christianity than the view of 
the moral life just set forth as the underlying concep- 
tion of the play. That it is morrj wrong that sepa- 
rates persons into two classes, and that the broad way 
leads to destruction, and the narrow way to life is the 
very essence of Christianity. Both the play and Chris- 
tianity maintain the view that the course of human life 
is presided over by a Power greater than the individ 
ual, and that that Power metes out destinies according; 
to the life lived. At the same time both pro^*ide for a 
change of heart on the part of evil-doers. Repentance 
and forgiveness are fundamental conceptions in both. 
It does not come witliin the sphere of the dramatist to 
formulate metaphysical conceptions, but his view of the 
moral order is in perfect accord with the theistic view 
of Christianity. Many of the conceptions of Chris- 
tianity are no doubt not to be found in the play, but 
whatever views the play does contain are decidedly 
Christian, and it contains about aU the elements of 
Christianity that could naturally be included in a 
drama. Professor Bradley has well said that in Kino 
Lear "e\-il is merely destructive: it founds nothing, and 
seems capable of existing only on foundations laid by 
its opposite. It is also *<7/-destructive: it sets these 
beings at enmity. . . . Thus the world in which evil 
appears seems to be at heart unfriendly to it.** * 
This is the fundamental Christian conception that evil 
is the one great destroyer of men, and the unalterable 

* A. E, Tavlor, **The Case of Lear^ Umirertity Ma^assms (Mon- 
treal), VI, i, April, 1907, pp. :306-??o. 
' Shaltipmrmm Tragedy, p. 304. 



King Lear 287 

enemy of mankind. 

Swinburne has said that the play is "dark and hard," 
and presents a "tragic fatalism" that has no "twilight 
of atonement," and no reconciliation.^ Professor 
Bradley has also said that "In no other of his trage- 
dies does humanity appear more pitiably infirm or more 
hopelessly bad." ^ Rather should we say that it pre- 
sents the moral world as inexorably just, and that 
it is hopeless only to persons who persist in the ways 
of evil. If life were the only desirable thing, there 
would be only despair for evil-doers, for Lear and 
Cordelia do not save their lives by changing their 
ways. But the play depicts an open way toward moral 
restoration and seems to promise redemption to all 
who will forsake evil. So long, then, as the world is 
just, but holds out hope for the penitent, there is no 
need for despair. The play of course is dark, for there 
is so much evil, and so much suffering, and so few of 
the persons escape the final judgment. But there is 
always a ray of light in the darkness, and where there 
is light there is hope. The few persons, too, who escape 
the contamination are among the finest characters 
in all Shakespeare. We are ceasing, however, to ex- 
pect Shakespeare's full and final view of the world in 
any one play, and are beginning to look to the entire 
Shakespearean drama for his complete thought. When 
we do that we get a view of the world that inspires 
confidence rather than despair. 

Professor Bradley has noticed that the references to 
religion in King Lear are about as frequent as in the 
final plays. It is very significant that the references 
to religion become more frequent as Shakespeare ap- 



^ Study of Shakespeare, pp. 171-2. 
^Op. cit, p. 273. 



288 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 

proached the end. The last plays, too, present a 
brighter and much more optimistic view of life than 
the earlier, and this has been taken to mean that the 
dramatist presents this as his mature and final view. It 
may only mean, however, that Shakespeare had now 
reached the stage of his dramatic career in which he 
could fill out and complete his view, and that for this 
completion the ideas of mercy and forgiveness were 
naturally presented more clearly in the last plays. In 
support of this it may be urged that nothing in the 
last plays is really new, for every element had already 
appeared in numerous earlier plays. But what is new 
is that these elements of light and hope are given a 
fresh emphasis, indicating no doubt a growing confi- 
dence in these principles on the part of the drama- 
tist. 

It is because of these great moral and spiritual quali- 
ties in his dramas that Shakespeare is so rapidly becom- 
ing the greatest teacher of the modern world, and espe- 
cially of the English-speaking peoples, as Homer was of 
the Greeks. The long-continued and careful study of 
his dramas has trained the modern mind to think his 
thoughts until his influence has been surpassed only by 
the Bible itself. We are slowly coming to agree with his 
opinion of the characters of his dramas, and in this are 
acquiring a much more reliable moral judgment. The 
centuries of criticism have veered hither and thither in 
their judgments, but now show a tendency to come back 
to Shakespeare, and to accept whatever is manifestly the 
opinion of the dramatist. Shakespeare is rightly as- 
suming his place as one of the greatest school-masters 
of mankind. 



NOTES 



II 



NOTES 
NOTE A 

THE STAGING OF THE FIRST SCENE OF HAMLET 

THE all but universal failure of actors as well as 
critics to find any great significance in the first 
scene of Hamlet has led inevitably to an indiffer- 
ence to or a neglect of its proper staging. If Shake- 
speare's text is taken as of no significance, then it 
follows that the staging of the scene will not be such as 
to give an}^ meaning to his words. If the scene can- 
not be understood as of great dramatic importance, it is 
not to be wondered at that it has not had a proper 
and significant setting. 

There are no stage directions in the First Folio ex- 
cept the entrances and exits, but modern editors gen- 
erally adopt those suggested by Capell and Malone, as 
follows : "Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle." 
This is no doubt correct, so far as it goes, but it needs 
elaboration. Most actors seem to make this a view 
looking toward the castle, with the platform in the fore- 
ground, and only the castle in the background. But the 
point of view should be reversed, with the platform and 
part of the castle in the immediate foreground, and 
with the outlook from the platform as the wide and 
extensive background of the scene. 

On Shakespeare's own stage tlierc was, of course, no 
attempt to represent the actual setting of tlie scene. 
It was this very lack of stage setting, as an appeal 

291 



292 Notes 

to the eve, that made it necessary for Shakespeare to 
give full and exhaustive exposition to such opening 
scenes as were of great dramatic importance. In Ham- 
let this dramatic exposition is unusually full and com- 
plete, and should determine the modem staging of the 
scene. On our representative stage, all the elements in 
the exposition should be given their due and proper 
place. 

The proper setting is not difficult to determine, for it 
is all brought out in the conversation of the guards. 
Apart from the entrances and the exits of the various 
persons and the ghost, the settings are all referred to 
in one of the speeches of Marcellus. In his inquiry for 
an explanation of the extraordinary activities he sees 
going on in the country he speaks first of "this same 
strict and most observant watch.'' He asks why 
"nightly toils the subject of the land," and then goes 
on to explain the nature of the work upon which these 
laborers are engaged. He next speaks of "such daily 
cast of brazen cannon," and asks: 

•'*^\"hy such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task 
Does not divide the Sunday from the week?'- 

The two things, then, that especially attract his at- 
tention are the feverish haste with which the Danes are 
casting new cannon, and the re-doubled speed with 
which they are building new ships. In both of these 
kinds of labor they are working day and night. 

It is to be supposed, therefore, that some evidence 
of these operations can be observed from the platform 
where they are standing, even in the darkness of the 
night. The foundries and the shipyards where these 
labors are going on are doubtless on the water-front, 
about the harbor, which is overlooked by the castle 



Notes 293 

and the platform. They might, indeed, be both seen 
and heard even in the night. 

The stage setting, then, should indicate these nightly 
toils. Instead of showing the castle alone in the back- 
ground, the setting should show a platform overlook- 
ing the harbor and the sea, and with some indication 
even in the night of the foundries and the shipyards 
.that are busy both day and night. This setting, then, 
would suggest as the play intimates that the Danes are 
anxiously preparing to meet an impending attack from 
the sea upon their kingdom. As we know from 
Horatio's words, this attack was to come from Nor- 
way, led by young Fortinbras for the purpose of re- 
gaining the lands lost to Denmark by his father. The 
setting, then, on our modern representative stage 
should give some clue to this situation. 

NOTE B 

HORATIO, AND HIS PART IN THE PLAY 

Many critics have noticed little apparent dis- 
crepancies in the role played by Horatio in the 
first scene of the play. Professor Bradley calls 
attention to the fact that when Hamlet meets 
Horatio he scarcely recognizes him at first.-^ Horatio 
seems, in fact, to be a stranger in Denmark, though he 
tells Hamlet that he had seen his father once. (I. ii. 
186.) At a later time Hamlet explains to him some of 
the manners and customs of the country, and his re- 
mark that he is himself "a native here and to the 
manner born,'' seems to imply that Horatio is not a 
native. (I. iv. 15.) 

* Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 404. 



294 Notes 

Yet, in spite of this, it is to Horatio that the 
dramatist gives the task of explaining ''the past his- 
tory and present affairs of the kingdom." It is he 
who answers the questions of Marcellus in the first 
scene about the war-hke preparations. It is he who 
gives the reason for the feverish casting of cannon and 
the building of new ships with such haste that the 
laborers are kept busy day and night, as well as Sun- 
days. 

Horatio seems to know more about the affairs of 
Denmark than Marcellus, who presumably is himself 
a Dane. And all this before he has met Hamlet, in the 
play. Horatio is able to explain the present situation 
in the light of the past history of the country, and it is 
from him that we get nearly all the historical facts 
relating to the elder Hamlet. From the Prince we get 
the character of the late king, but it is from Horatio 
that we get his history. 

Though this seems to be a discrepancy in the play, 
it is easily seen to be of no vital significance in the in- 
terpretation of the drama. It may possibly be con- 
sidered an artistic blemish, but it does not affect the 
larger meaning of the play. It is of no great con- 
sequence who supplies this preliminary information 
about the elder Hamlet, and furnishes the history of 
the country. The important thing is that this in- 
formation is given, and that it is given by one so close 
to Hamlet in the play that his words can be taken as 
giving us accurate facts of history. 

Had the dramatist cared for such matters, he might 
have avoided the discrepancy by having Horatio, as 
the stranger, ask the questions, and by giving the 
answers to Marcellus who apparently is a native Dane. 
But this would have furnished the information from a 



Notes 295 

source not close enough to Hamlet to give proper color 
to his words. Throughout the play the part of con- 
fidant is everywhere played by Horatio. For the 
dramatist to give this part to Horatio at the open- 
ing of the play before he had met his old friend from 
the university is to show that his mind was busy 
chiefly upon the larger aspects of the drama. These 
are in no way aff^ected by the fact that in the play we 
get our inside information from an outside person. 



NOTE C 

HAMI.ET, III. IV. 122-130 

Queen. O gentle son, . . . 

Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? 

Hcmilet. On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! 
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, 
Would make them capable. — Do not look upon me, 
Lest with this piteous action you convert 
My stern effects; then what I have to do 
Will want true color! tears perchance for blood. 

This conversation follows immediately the ghost's 
last appearance and his final words to Hamlet. The 
Prince thought his father's ghost had come his "tardy 
son to chide," and the ghost tells him, 

"This visitation 
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.'' 

He then directs Hamlet's attention to his mother, 
counselling him to "step between her and her fighting 
soul." 

Hamlet, then, is once more forced to face tlie very 
diflficult task of trj^ing to revenge his fatlier and at 
the same time to spare his mother. This is the moral 



296 Notes 

character of Hamlet disclosing itself. The double 
duty is hard to discharge. To revenge his father is 
to kill the king, and it is extremely difficult to kill the 
king without harming his mother. Hamlet is placed 
in a very perplexing moral dilemma. He has an obliga- 
tion to his father and an obligation to his mother, and 
the two seem to conflict, or at least the performance of 
the one seems to necessitate the disregard of the other. 
To revenge his father and to spare his mother are 
almost like two incompatible tasks. The problem of 
the entire play is Hamlet's attempt to devise means 
to accomplish both. 

Facing, then, this difficulty, and urged once more by 
the ghost to both undertakings, Hamlet discovers that 
his mother does not see the ghost. Thinking he is 
gazing into "the incorporal air'' she becomes alarmed 
lest he is distracted, or in a "distemper." She, there- 
fore, importunes him in terror, "Whereon do you 
look?" To this Hamlet replies, "On him, on him!" 
Then he goes on to say : 

*'Do not look upon me. 
Lest with this piteous action you convert 
My stern effects.'' 

This conversation is usually taken as further evi- 
dence of Hamlet's constitutional inability to carry out 
any course of action or revenge. It has been assumed 
that his "stern effects" are converted into weakness or 
procrastination by the sight of the piteous ghost of 
his father, and that in the very act of trying to whet 
Hamlet's dull revenge the ghost succeeds only in 
further causing delay and inactivity. 

This, however, cannot well be the right interpreta- 
tion of the passage. When the queen asks Hamlet, 
"Whereon do you look?" he is, of course, looking on 



Notes 297 

the ghost which she does not see. While talking to his 
mother he is looking upon the ghost of his father. He 
says further, referring to the ghost : 

"Look you, how pale he glares ! 
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones. 
Would make them capable." 

The effect of the appearance of the ghost is, therefore, 
the very reverse of causing Hamlet to delay, but as 
when he made his first appearance, he incites him to 
action : 

"Haste me to know 't, that I, with wings as swift 
As meditation or the thoughts of love. 
May sweep to my revenge." (I. v. 29-31.) 

With such thoughts in his mind, and with such in- 
centives to action, Hamlet stands rapt in gaze upon his 
father's ghost. At that moment his attention is drawn 
to his mother, and he turns to her, only to find her 
apparently thinking him distracted, and piteously look- 
ing upon her son. His next words, then, are addressed 
to her and not to the ghost : 

"Do not look upon me, 
Lest with this piteous action you convert 
My stern effects." 

Seeing her piteous actions and her alarm and amaze- 
ment he fears his compassion for his mother, who is 
the real object of pity, will rob him of his purpose to 
kill the king. He therefore begs her not to let her 
piteous actions deprive him of his stern resolve, and 
disarm him for the great task of executing vengeance 
upon the king. If she continue her piteous action he 
will be led to shed tears rather than blood, and tears 
"will want true color." 

At the last, as at the first, Hamlet finds that the re- 



298 Notes 

straint placed upon hiin of not harming his mother in 
carrying out his great work of revenging his father 
magnifies the difficulty of his task. When to this is 
added the other restraint he places upon himself of 
not harming his native land, it may be seen that his 
difficulties are almost insuperable. In all his attempts 
to perform his task he spares his mother and he spares 
Denmark, and it is only the supreme perfidy of the 
king that at last leads to the death of the queen and 
the sacrifice of the life of Hamlet himself. 



XOTE D 
Othello's color, and its dramatic sigxipicaxce 

Maxy critics and actors seem to have the no- 
tion that Othello's color is a matter of no sig- 
nificance in the play. All they see is that he 
is a man, but a man who happens to be black. Pro- 
fessor Bradley, for instance, says : "Othello's race . . . 
makes a difference to our idea of him: it makes a dif- 
ference to the action and catastrophe. But in regard 
to the essentials of his character it is not important.'' ^ 
A few pages later, however — but in a footnote — he 
admits that "The effect of difference in blood in in- 
creasincr Othello's bewilderment resrardincr his wife is 
not sufficiently realized.'' - 

The difference in color between Othello and Des- 
demona, however, is but the dramatist's device to ex- 
hibit to the eye the "difference of blood." Othello's 
color, therefore, is what marks the difference in blood 
and character. And no one who reads the text can 

^ Shaketpearecm Tragedy, p. 187. 
»/6iU, p. 193. 



Notes 299 

doubt that the dramatist has given Othello's color a 
very great prominence in the play. The play contains 
no fewer than seventeen distinct references to Othello's 
color, and it is a strange interpretation of Shake- 
speare's play that attributes no significance to what 
the dramatist has so sedulously elaborated. 

Apart from the numberless times he is called a 
"Moor," the following, then, are the passages in the 
play that refer to Othello's color: 

What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe ^ , ' i 

If he can carry't thus? fl/i. 72-3.| 

Sir, y'are robb'd, for shame put on your gown. 

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul, 

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram 

Is tupping your white ewe. (I. i. 94-7.) 

• Whether a maid, so tender, fair, and happy, . . . 
Would ever have (t'incur a general mock) 
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom. 
Of such a thing as thou. (I. ii. 82-88.) 

A maiden, never bold: 
Of spirit so still, and quiet, that her motion 
Blush'd at herself, and she, in spite of nature, 
Of years, of country, credit, everything 
To fall in love, with what she fear'd to look on; 
It is a judgment maim'd, and most imperfect. 

(I. iii. 113-118.) 

My heart's subdu'd 
Even to the very quality of my lord; 
I saw Othello's visage in his mind. 
And to his honors and his valiant parts, 
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 

(I. iii. 278-282.) 

And noble signior, 
If virtue no delighted beauty lack. 
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 

(I. iii. 319-321.) 

Desdemona. How if she be black and witty? 
lago. If she be black, and thereto have a wit. 

She'll find a white, that shall her blackness fit. 

(II. i. 15(i-8.) 



300 Notes 

Her eye must be fed. And what deligbt shall she have to look 

on the devil? . . . Loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, man- 
ners, and beauties: all which the Moor is defective in. 

(II. i. 338-263.) 

Well . . . come lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine, and here 
without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a 
measure to the health of black Othello. (IL ii. 4>48.) 

Xor from mine own weak merits, will I draw 

The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt. 

For she had eyes, and chose me. (III. iiL 216-8.) 

She did deceive her father, marrying you. 

And when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks. 

She lov'd them most. ' (III. iii. 236-a) 

Ay, there's the point. 

As (to be bold with you) 

Xot to affect your proposed matches 

Of her own clime, complexion, and degree. 

Whereto we see in all things, nature tends: ... 

But (pardon me) I do not in position 

Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear 

Her will, recoiling to her l>etter judgment, 

Mav fall to match vou with her countrv forms, 

.\nd happily repent. ' (III. iiL 268-^9.) 

Haply, for I am black. 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chaml)erers have. (III. ilL 307-9.) 

My name that was as fresh 
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
As mine own face. " (III. iii. 445-7.) 

I think the sun where he was bom. 
Drew all such humors from him. 

(III. iv. S4-35.) 

Emilia. Oh, the more angel she, and you the blacker deviL 
Othello. She tum'd to folly: and she was a whore. 
JEmilitu Thou dost belie her, and thou art a deviL 

(V. iL 164-6.) 

If he say so, may his pernicious soul 

Rot half a grain a day: he lies to th' heart. 

She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. 

(V. iL 194-^) 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Absolutism. Cf, Despotism. 

Accident in the drama^ 151- 
153, 221, 223. 

Additions. Cf. Changes. 

Albany, Duke of, 251, 275, 
284, 285. 

Alden, R. M., 176, 182, 183. 

Ambition, SS, 46, 48, 5Q, 71, 
79,92,119,120,125,173, 
213,214,253,254,259. 

"Antic disposition," Ham- 
let's, 62, 62-5, 95. Cf. also 
Madness. 

Antonio, and Bassanio, 139, 

141, 142, 143, 150-1, 154, 
168; and Portia, 140, 141, 

142, 143, 149, 156, 158, 
168, 169; and Shylock, 

138, 140, 143, 144, 145, 
146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 
151, 153, 154, 155, 156, 
163-4, 165; as representa- 
tive Christian, 135, 136, 
145-6, 149, 155; Bond of, 
150, 154, 156, 158, 167; 
Character of, 145, 146, 
147; Merchant of Venice, 
as story of, 130, 137, 138, 

139, 140, 167. 

Antony and Cleopatra, 236. 



Armor, The ghost in, 44-6. 

Arnold, Matthew, 283. 

Arragon, The Prince of, 
152. 

Art, Shakespeare's. Cf. Dra- 
matic art. 

Arthur, Prince, 31, 124. 

Avenger, Hamlet as, 46, 5&, 
57-62, 82-3, 120; Shylock 
as, 133, 155. Cf. also Re- 
venge. 

Bacon, Francis, l6l. 

Banishment, Hamlet's, 90, 
98, 107-8, 110, 123. 

Bassanio, 138, 139, 141, 
142, 143, 144, 147, 150-1, 
152, 153, 154, 167, 168, 
169. 

Belief orest, Francis de 
(Hystorie of Hamhlet), 
30, 31-2, S9, 49, 60, 62, 
78, 120, 125. 

Bestrafte Brudermord, Der, 
Cf. German play of Ham- 
let. 

Bianca, 227. 

Bible, Shakespeare and the, 
183, 288. 

Blackwood's Magazine, 206. 
303 



304 



Index 



Bodenstedt, F., 201. 

Booths Edwin, on Shylock, 
148. 

Brabantio, 195, 197, 198, 
200, 203, 235, 236, 238. 

Bradley, A. C, on Hamlet, 
24, 82, 123; on Lear, 258, 
261; on Othello, 173-4, 
181, 186, 188, 190, 192, 
196, 199, 203, 204, 210, 
213, 214, 221, 227, 229, 
233, 258, 279, 286, 287. 

Brandes, George, 131, 134, 
149, 165, 167. 

Business methods. Conflict 
of, in Merchant of Venice, 
144, 149, 155, 164. 

Caird, Edward, 265. 

Campbell, Lewis, 213. 

, Thomas, 122, 134, 

160-1. 

Caskets, The, in Merchant 
of Venice, 137, 138, 140, 
141, 142, 143, 151, 152-3, 
167, 168. 

Cassio, 188, 190, 191, 192, 
196, 208, 214, 218, 220, 
224, 227, 229, 230, 231, 
235, 238-9. 

Chance. Cf, Accident. 

Changes made by Shake- 
speare, in his stories, 13, 
16, 30, 37; in Hamlet, 30, 
39-40, 49, 78; in Lear, 
248, 250, 276-7, 280, 281, 
282; in Merchant of Ven- 



ice, 30, 137, 138, 140, 
164; in Othello, 194, 195, 
206, 237, 238, 239, 242. 

Character, in Moralities, 12; 
in Marlowe, 12; in 
Shakespeare, 12, 13, 14. 

, Othello, a tragedy 

of, 181, 222, 239. 

Christianity, 101, 136, l65, 
166, 285-6, and Judaism, 
154-5; Antonio's concep- 
tion of, 146; Principle of, 
157, 158, 165. 

Cinthio, as source of Othel- 
lo, 194, 195, 206, 225, 
2375 238, 239, 242. 

Claudius, and Elder Hamlet, 
46, 47, 50, 58, 59, 72; 
and Macbeth, 5 1 ; and 
Norway, 50, 109, HO; 
and Polonius, 64, 84, 85, 
86, 94; and Rosencrantz 
and Guildenstern, QQ, 81, 
88, 90, 108; as a fratri- 
cide, 47, 59, 74, 95, 98-9. 
104; at prayer, 100-3; 
Character of, 47, 50-1, 52, 
82, 87, 115, 116-7; Fear 
of Hamlet, 77, 88, 98, 
107, 108; Influence of, 
30-1, 43, 47, 51-2, 5S, 75, 
76, 78, 120, 125; Unmask- 
ing of, 116-7. Cf. also 
Denmark and Claudius ; 
Hamlet and the King; 
Laertes and Claudius. 

Closing scenes. Importance 



Index 



305 



of, 14, 230, 233; in Ham- 
let, 113-120; in Lear, 248, 
260, 280-5; in Merchant 
of Venice, 139, 167-9; in 
Othello, 230-9. 

Coleridge, S. T., 178; on 
Hamlet, 23-4; Cf. also 
Goethe-Coleridge; o n 
Lear, 256, 257, 261; on 
Othello, 178-9, 181, 192, 
218-9. 

Color, Othello's, 197-8, 199, 
206, 207, 209, 223, 225, 
226; Importance of, 298- 
300. 

Conclusions. Cf, Closing 
scenes. 

Conflict, The, in Hamlet, 
114-6; in Lear, 267; in 
Merchant of Venice, 144, 
153, 154-5; in Othello, 
184, 187, 189, 198, 208, 
209. 

Conflicts, solved only by 
love, 153, 169, 279. Cf. 
also Love. 

Cordelia, 248 ; and Lear, 
252, 257, 258, 260, 261, 
262, 263, 264, 265, 269, 
271, 272, 275, 276, 277, 
278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 
283, 285, 287; Desdemona 
and, 173; Character of, 
248, 260, 261, 262-4, 276- 
7, 278, 283; Death of, 
283. 

Corson, Hiram, 23, 180. 



Criticism of Shakespeare, 
The, 15, 21, 23-6, 27-8, 
SS, 37, 80, 130, 159, 160, 
174, 176, 177, 178, 181-5, 
187, 203-4, 211, 229, 233, 
248, 249, 250, 255, 280, 
281-2, 285-8. Cf. also In- 
terpretation. 

Danish legend of Hamlet, 
30-2. 

Death, of Claudius, 110, 
116, 117; of Elder Ham- 
let, 6d>, 72, 74, 75; of 
Hamlet, 117-8, 118-9, 
120-1; of Lear and Cor- 
delia, 279, 280, 281, 282, 
283, 284, 285; of Othello 
and Desdemona, 231-2, 
236, 237, 238; of Poloni- 
us, 87, 90, 104, 107; of 
the Queen (Gertrude), 
117. 

Denmark, and England, 

108, 110, 112; and Nor- 
way, SS, 37, 38, 39, 40-3, 
45, 46, 48, 50, 57-8, 77, 

109, 110, 120; The Condi- 
tion of, under Claudius^ 
30-1, 33, 41, 43, 45, 46, 
47, 50-4, 66, 57, 62, 71, 
74, 75, 76, 78, 109, 111, 
113, 121, 125. 

Desdemona, and Cassio, 188^ 
191, 192, 218, 220, 224, 
238-9; and lago, 188, 194, 
195, 212, 218, 226; and 



306 



Ind^x 



OtheDo^ 173, 171, 176, 
179, 181, 18i5, 184, 187, 
188, 189-190. 19^. 196^ 
208, 205-6, 208, 209, 210, 
^i^, 223-4. 225, ^^6, 227, 
228, 229, 231, 233, 234. 
23o, 236, 240; Character 
of, 182, 183-4, 232. 233. 
234. 

Despotism, in Lear's day, 
253 ; Lear, as a picture of, 
254, 273; of Lear, 249, 
256; Moral effects on 
Lear, 257, 268, 269, 273. 

Dowden, Edward, 27, 122, 
204, 250. 

Doyle, John T., 159-160. 

Drama, Two types of, 11- 
12; and history, SS, 184, 
255; The Classical, 180; 
The Romantic, 97, 177- 

Dramatic art, Shakespeare's, 
12, 13, 14, 15, 27-8, S6y 
175. 180, 184-5, 191, 199; 
in Hamlet, SS, S6, S9, 40- 
43, 96-7, 124; in Lear, 
247-249. 250-1, 277, 280, 
2S1. 283, 284, 285, 286; 
in Merchant of Vetdce, 
30, 40, 136, 148-9; in 
Oikello, 184-5, 189, 191, 
202, 208, 222-3, 225-6, 
233, 237; in Romeo and 
Juliet, 40, 153. 

Dramatic situation, in Ham- 
let, 33-4, 36, 37, 40-3, 57, 
58; in Lear, 251-7; in 



Merchant of Venice, 139" 
142, 143; in Othello, 179- 
181, 184, 185. 187. 188- 
192. 

Dryden, Jc^m, 175. 

Duel, The (Hamlet and 
Laertes). 112-3. 114-tJ 
117. 

Duty, Hamlet and, 46, 54-<?. 
73, 82, 83, 93, 103, 104 
120. Cf. also Hamle:, 
Task of. 

Edgar, 265-6, 274, 284, ^85. 

Edinburgh Review, The, 
174. 

Edmund, 265-6, 279, 280. 
284. 

Election of King in Den- 
mark, S6, 51, 72, 74, lie 

Elizabethan, age, 22, 13v' 
250, ioS\ dr^na, l6, 177 
180, 254-5; England, 2C 
mind, 130, 146, 198, 20r 
209, 250; Shakespeare ar 
11. 15, 16, 129, 25c 
stage, 198. 

Emilia. 194, 195, 211-2, 221 
224, 235. 

England, 29, 90, 98, lOt 
106, 108. 110, 112, 12: 
131-2. 

English history. Plays on 
re4, 125, 254. 

English biw, 159, l60, l6l, 
162, 163. Cf. also Law 

Equity, Mercy as, l62, l6o. 



Indew 



307 



Cf, also Justice and 

Mercy. 
Essays by a Society of Gen- 
tlemen at Exeter, 134^ 

216. 
Ethics, 97, 146, 149, 158, 

166. Cf. also Morality. 
Evil, Effect of, 50-4, 254, 

275, 277, 286. 
* 'External Relations of the 

Persons,*' in Hamlet, 37- 

40. 

Fate, 55, 58, 87, 115, 123, 
125, 141, 151, 180, 235; 
Moral character of, 125, 
141. 

Father, Hamlet and his, 46, 
49, 53-4, 54-7, 58, 59, 6l, 
74, 75, 81, 105, 120; Por- 
tia and her, 142, 151-2, 
153. Cf. also Cordelia 
and Lear; Polonius and 
Laertes ; Polonius and 
Ophelia. 

Father's tragedy, Lear as a, 
249, 266. 

Favoritism, of Lear, 251, 
252, 257-8, 261 ; of Othel- 
lo, 188, 190, 191, 193, 
198. 

Final scenes. Cf. Closing 
scenes. 

First scenes. Cf. Opening 
scenes. 

Folio (First), of Hamlet, 
40; oi Lear, 249. 



Fool, in Lear, 268, 270, 271. 

Fortinbras, as a menace to 
Denmark, 42, 46, 47, 54, 
57,58,62, 76, 77,78, 79; 
as next king, 36, 38, 118- 
119, 120, 126; as a temp- 
tation to Hamlet, 108-9, 
110, 120; inspired by the 
vreakness of Claudius, 47, 
48, 50, 57; once more, 
108-111; Shakespeare's 
addition to the story, 39, 
78; The ambitions of, 33, 
42, 45, 48, 109, 119; The 
part of, in the play, 37, 
38-9, 49, 50, 118-9, 120, 
126. 

France, The King of, 264, 
275, 285. 

Frank, Henry, 60. 

Fratricide Punished. Cf. 
German play of Hamlet. 

Friends, Antonio's, 147; 
Claudius's, ll6; Hamlet's, 
34-6, 41, 46, 118; Othel- 
lo's 235; Shylock's, 144, 
147. 

Furness, H. H., 134, l6l. 

Geoffrey of Monmouth, 277. 
German play of Hamlet, 

The, 30, 78, 102, 103, 

125. 
Gertrude. Cf. Queen. 
Gervinus, G. G., 266. 
Ghost, The, Appears first to 

Hamlet's friends, 33-35 ; 



308 



Imdex 



Hamlet and, 33-4, 35, 43- 
44, 54-7, 59, 67, 72, 73, 
S3, 96. 99, 104; in armor, 
44-46; invisible to the 
queen, 105; The dramatic 
function of. ^5, 40-1, 43, 
44-6. 51. 54-7, 59, 72, 73^ 
77, 117. 

Gloucester. Cf. Underplot 
in Lear. 

Goethe-Coleridge theory of 
Hamlet. Qi, Goethe, and 
Coleridge, 

Goethe, J. W., 23-5, 26, 37, 
S^, 80, 122, 203. 

Goneril and Regan, 25:2, 
258, 259, 260, 261, 262,^ 
264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 
269, 270, 271, 279, 280. 

Gomzago, The Murder of, 
95,99- 

Gosson, Stephen, 137. 

Guildenstern. Cf. Rosen- 
crantz and Guildenstem. 

Hadow, W. H., 213. 

Hamlei, 27, 60, 139, 187, 
225 ; Interpretation of, 
21-3; Theories of, 23-26; 
The sources and, 28-34. 
63. 

Hamlet, Abilitr of, 80, 83, 
108; a deliverer, 31, 32, 
77, 78, 111; and his 
mother, S5, 56, 71, 103-7, 
295-8; and the king, 25, 
26, 50, 51, 52, oS, 56, 58, 



59, 62-3, 64, 71-2, 75, 76, 
77, 80-4, 88, 98-9, 100-3, 
108, 115, 116-7; and 
Ophelia, 87, 91-5; an 
ideal prince, 49, 57, 124- 
126; Character of, 21-2, 
31, 52, 73, 76, 77, 80, 97- 
99, 104, 114, 115, 121-4, 
208; Impetuosity of, 79, 
80, 98, 104, 114, 115; 
Melancholy of. So, 58, 71, 
72, 73-6, 81, 95 ; Procras- 
tination of, 23, 24, 79, 80, 
108: Purposes of, politi- 
cal, 26, 62, 82, 110, 111; 
Relation to the play, 32- 
34, 79, 82, 96, 1 17-8, 120 : 
Religious spirit of, 102, 
103, 123; Task of, 25-6, 
27, 51, 56, 57-62, 72, 76, 
77, 78, 83, 117, 120, 123. 
Cf. also "Antic disposi- 
tion" ; Avenger ; Banish- 
ment ; Death ; Duel ; Duty ; 
Father ; Fortinbras; 
Ghost; Hero; Humor; 
Idealist ; Laertes ; Mad- 
ness ; Morality ; Motive ; 
Patriot; Peace: Polonius; 
Popularity ; Return: 
Schoolfellows ; Secrecy ; 
Self-restraint; Self-sacri- 
fice; Silence; "Transfor- 
mation." 
Hamlet. The Elder,31, 39, 40. 
42, 45, 46-9. 50, 54-7, 58, 
59y 72, 74, 76, 107, 120. 



Index 



309 



Henry the Fifth, 79, 124, 
125, 254. 

Heraud, J. A., 219, 234. 

Herford, C. H., 204, 207, 
228, 224, 281. 

Hero, Elder Hamlet as a, 
48-9; Hamlet as a, 31, 49, 
76-8, 79, 110-11, 120-1, 
124, 125; Passion and 
deed of, the mainspring 
of dramatic action, 33-4, 
6^, 54-6, 6%, 62, 139, 142, 
143, 179-181, 187-8, 193, 
240, 251-2. 

Hodell, C. W., ?>'^, 189. 

Holinshed, 277. 

Holmes, Judge Nathaniel, 
161-3, 166-7. 

Horatio, and the ghost, 43- 
44; as friend of Hamlet, 
34, 2^6, 41, 52, 60, 61, 63, 
67-8, 82, 84, 98, 99, 100, 
112, 113, 114, 116, 117- 
118-120; Character of, 
46, 118; Knowledge of 
Denmark, ?>Q^ 41, 42, 44, 
45, 48, 54, 109; Relation 
to the play, 38, 60, 61, &?>, 
^%, 109, 112, 116, 117-18, 
119, 120, 293-5. 

Horn, Franz, 252. 

Humor, Hamlet's, 65-71. 

Hunter, John, 185, 186. 

lago, and Cassio, 208, 214, 
218, 220, 224, 230, 231, 
239; and Roderigo, 188, 



194, 195, 196, 211, 217, 
218, 219, 226, 231; and 
the lieutenancy, 188, 221, 
230, 239; Character of, 
178, 187, 188-9, 192, 211, 
213,215, 216-7, 231, 233, 
240; Motives of, 178, 194, 
211,216-7; Plans of, 191, 
194, 216, 217, 220, 224. 
Cf, Desdemona and lago; 
Othello and lago. 

Idealist, Hamlet an, 97, 123, 
124; Shakespeare an, 97- 

Idle (foolish), Q2>, 267. 

Imogen, 201, 233. 

Insanity. Cf, Madness. 

Interest on money, 149, 150, 
164, 165. 

Interpretation, of Shake- 
speare, 11-17, 21-3, 28, 
29, 174-5, 184. Cf. also 
Criticism. 

Intrigue, in Othello, 178, 
181,221-2,223,239. 

Irving, H. B., 87. 

Jamieson, Mrs., 262. 

Jessica, 140, 148, 153, l68, 
169, 201. 

Jews, as comic characters, 
131, 132; as money-lend- 
ers, 132, 137, 138, 143, 
144, 149, 166; Conflict of, 
with Christians, 130, 133, 
138, 140, 143-5, 147, 149, 
150, 153-8, 163-6; in 
England, 131-2, 135; in 



310 



Index 



the drama, 130, 131, 133- 
1 :>4, 137; Shakespeare 
and the, 130, 13^2-3, 134-5, 
137, 138, 139, 147, 148, 
164; The people and the, 
130, 131, 13:>-3, 135, 147. 

Johnson, Samuel, 14, 176. 
177, :248, i2S0. 

Johnson, C. F., 178. 

Jonson, Ben, 12, 175. 

Julius Ccrsar, 6l, 254; Ju- 
lius Csesar, 193, 227- 

Justice and Mercy, 149? 157,. 
158, 161-3, 165. 

Kean, Edmund, 134. 

Kent, 251, 263. 265. 267-8, 
270, 275. 276. 282. 

King, Fortinbras as Next, 
118-119. Cf. Claudius, 
and Lear. 

King Lear, 27, 173, 250, 
251, 254-5; Christianity 
of, 285-7; Criticism of, 
248, 250, 252, 254, 256, 
261, 282, 285-6, 287; The 
old play of, 264; The 
theme of, 248-9, 251, 254, 
273. Cf, also Lear. 

Klein-Werder theory of 
Hamlet. Cf, Werder. 

Kreyssig, F., 256. 

Kyd's Hamiei, 24, 29, 30, 
39. 

Laertes, and Claudius, 77- 
84, 103, 111-2, 116, 117: 



and Hamlet, 80, 87-8, 92, 
112-114, 114-16, 116-17; 
and Ophelia, 91, 92, 112; 
and Polonius, 85-6, 113; 
Character of, 76, 85, 92, 
115, 116; Rebellion of, 
62, 110, 111, 113, 120. 

Lamb, Charles, 206. 

Lansdowne, Viscount, 138. 

Latham. R. G., 31. 

Law, in Merchant of Venice, 
154. 157. 158. 159, l60, 
l6l. 162. 163, 164, 166. 
Cf. also English law. 

Lear, and attendants, 267-8 ; 
and daughters, 248, 249, 
251, 252, 253. 256, 257, 
258. 259, 260, 261, 262, 
263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 

268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 
274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 
279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 
285, 287; Character of, 
173, 253, 257, 259, 265, 

269, 270, 276-7, 278,279; 
Division of his kingdom, 
251, 252-3, 257, 258, 271- 
272; Egoism of, 253, 254, 
256, 257, 259, 270, 273, 
278, 279; Motive of, 253, 
258,260,263,271-2; Pride 
of, 270, 272, 276-7, 278; 
Vanity of, 257, 260, 265, 
272, 273, 284. Cf. also 
Cordelia and Lear; King 
Lear; Madness. 

Lennox, Mrs., 272. 



Index 



311 



Lewis, C. M., 21, 24. 

Lloyd, W. W., 234-5, 262. 

Lopez, Dr., 135. 

Lorenzo, 153, 168, l69, 201. 

Love, as equality, 198, 206, 
279; Function of, 40, 138, 
142, 153, 168, 169; in 
Hamlet, 91-2, 94-5, 105; 
in Merchant of Venice, 
40, 138, 141, 153, 167, 
168; in Othello, 203, 204, 
218-19; Value of, 142, 
156, 168, 202, 239, 279. 

Lunacy. Cf. Madness. 

Macaulay, T. B., 213. 

Macbeth, 51, 254, 275; 
Macbeth, 43, 51, 213, 216, 
275. 

Machiavellian villain, lago 
a } 215. 

Madness, in drama, Q5 ; of 
Hamlet (feigned), 62-5, 
65'Q, 70-1, 106, 107; of 
Lear, 65,271, 272-3, 274; 
of Ophelia, 112. Cf, also 
*'Antic disposition.'' 

Marcellus, 41-2, 43, 44, 45, 
46, 6S. 

Marlowe, 12; Doctor Faus- 
tus, 102; Jew of Malta 
(Barabas), 131, 133, 145, 
147, 205. 

Marriage, of Jessica and 
Lorenzo, 153, 168, l69; 
of Othello and Desdemo- 
na, 184, 198, 202, 205-6, 



208-9, 210, 211, 222, 223, 
234, 235, 242; of Queen 
and Claudius, 35, 72, 74, 
104. Cf, also Race. 

Mauritania, as Othello's na- 
tive country, 185-6, 229, 
242. 

Medieval, Christian, Anto- 
nio as, 145; Jew, Shylock 
as, 145, 148. 

Merchant of Venice, 40, 
137, 139, 217, 225; and 
the sources, 30, 136-8; 
Shakespeare's art in, 40, 
132, 134, 136, 137, 138, 
139, 141, 225; The Moor 
in, 152, 205; Theme of, 
137, 142, 143, 144, 167- 

Mercy and Justice. Cf, Jus- 
tice and Mercy; and 
Equity. 

Miracle plays, 11. 

Mirror for Magistrates, 
The, 277. 

Modern, Making Shake- 
speare, 13, 15, 129-130, 
134, 135, 187. 

Moor, Othello as a, 185-6, 
199, 207, 229, 240, 241, 
242 ; The, in Merchant of 
Venice, 152, 205; The, in 
IHtus Andronicus, 205. 

Moral code, of Antonio, 145, 
166, 167; of Shylock, 148, 
157, 158, 166. ^ 

Morality, in the plays: in 
Hamlet, 32, 40, 5G, 57, 



312 



Index 



60, 61, 74, 75, 76, 82, 97, 
116-7, 120, 125; in Lear, 
254, 256, 257, 268, 272-3, 
274, 275, 276, 277, 279, 
280, 283, 284, 285, 286, 
287; in Merchant of Ven- 
ice, 149, 155, 157, 158, 
166; in Othello, 174-5, 
176, 177, 180, 181, 183, 
207, 222, 230, 240-1, 243. 
Cf, also Ethics. 

Morality, of Shakespeare's 
heroes: Hamlet, 31,32,52, 
5S, 56, 57, 61, 62, 74, 75, 
76, 77, 82, 97, 101, 103, 
106, 115, 118, 122, 123, 
124, 125. 

, Lack of, in Antonio, 

145, 157; in Lear, 249, 
254, 268, 269, 273, 275; 
in Othello, 207, 208, 240, 
241,243; in Shylock, 145, 

146, 147, 157, 1^5 8-9. 
Morality plays, 11. 
Moral principles, in Trial 

Scene, 155, 157. 

Moral redemption^ in Lear, 
65, 276, 278, 279. 

Morocco, The Prince of, 
152, 205. 

Motive of, Hamlet, 34, S6, 
39,40,58; lago, 178, 194, 
211, 216-17; Lear, 253, 
258, 260, 263, 271-2; 
Othello, 178, 243; Shy- 
lock, 156. 

Moulton, R. G., 149, l6l. 



Mouse-trap, The, 67, 93, 98- 

99, 100. 
Murder of Gonzago, The, 

95, 99. 
Murray, J. Clark, 146. 
Mystery of Life, The, in 

Hamlet, 26-28. 

Naming of the plays. Cf. 
Titles. 

Narrative, in Morality 
plays, 11; in ^larlowe, 
12; in Shakespeare, 13- 
14, 15, 16, 36, 213, 238-9, 
247, 285. Cf. also Plots, 
and Story. 

National hero. Elder Ham- 
let as a, 48 ; Hamlet as a, 
30-2,60,76-8,118-19, 124. 

Nationalism, The new^ 79, 
110; The old, 79. 

Nature and man, 42, 271, 
274. 

Negro, Othello a, 209- 

Nemesis. Cf. Retribution. 

Nerissa, 139, 142, 151, 152. 

Norway. Cf. Denmark and 
Norway. 

Oechelhauser, Wilhelm, 24. 

Opening scenes^ Importance 
of, 33, 139, 189, 191; 
Hamlet, 32-4, 36, 37-9, 
40-3, 291-3; Lear, 251- 
253; Merchant of Venice, 
138-9, 139-143; Othello, 
187-194, 



Indew 



313 



Ophelia, 64, 68, 72-3, 85, 86, 
87,91-5,98,99. 112,113, 
114. 

Opportunity of the Players, 
The, 95-6, 

Othello, 173, 174, 175, 178, 
182, 185, 188, 189, 193, 
215, 227, 237-9; Theme 
of, 185, 186, 187, 193, 
242. 

Othello and Brabantio, 195, 
197, 198, 200, 203, 235-6, 
238; and Emilia, 211 ; and 
lago, 178-9, 180-1, 186- 
196, 208, 212, 213, 214, 
215, 216, 224, 225, 226, 

227, 228, 229, 235, 236, 

239, 240; Barbarism of, 
194, 196, 199, 207, 208, 
209, 212, 217, 226, 227, 

228, 231, 232, 238, 240, 
241, 242, 243; Character 
of, 173, 190, 196, 197, 
199, 207, 208, 209, 225, 
226, 227, 228, 235, 236, 

240, 241, 243; Jealousy 
of, 219, 229; Pride of, 
219, 229, 230, 241; Rela- 
tion of, to the tragedy, 
184, 187, 189, 193, 198, 
199, 229, 230, 232, 236-7, 
243. Cf. also Color 
(Othello's) ; and Desde- 
mona and Othello. 

, compared to, Antony, 

236; Hamlet, 208; Julius 
Caesar, 227; Lcontcs, 229- 



Passion, in tragedy, 40, 97, 
180, 215, 222, 223, 236, 
243, 247, 264, 274-5. 

Patriot, Elder Hamlet as a, 
40, 46, 47; Hamlet as a, 
60, 61, 62, 77, 79, 118, 
124, 125. 

Peace, Elder Hamlet and, 
42, 48; Hamlet and, 
78-80, 110, 111, 119, 120, 
125-6. Cf. also Shake- 
speare. 

Play, The, and the Sources, 
{Hamlet), 28-32; and the 
Prince, 32-4. 

Players, The, in Hamlet, 80, 
83; The Opportunity of, 
95-6; Hamlet's Advice to, 
96-7. 

Plots, Shakespeare's, 12, 13, 
14, 46-7, 139-140, 178-9, 
185, 187, 247, 248, 249, 
251-3. Cf. also Narrative, 
and Story. 

Poel, William, 130, 145. 

'Toetic Justice" in Shake- 
speare, 14, 176, 177, 259, 
280, 281-2,285, 287. Cf. 
also Morality. 

Polonius, and Hamlet, 64, 
QS, 69, 70, 84-5, 87, 88-9, 
90,92, 103, 104, 107, 114; 
and Laertes, 85-6, 113; 
and Ophelia, 86, 87, 92, 
94; and the play, 64, 84, 
96; Cliaracter of, 84-5, 
86, 87, 89, 90, 94, 122; 



314 



Index 



Family, The, 84-6. Cf, 
also Claudius and Polo- 
nius. 

Popularity of Hamlet, 22, 
62, 71,' 74, 77, 90, 107-8, 
110, 113. 

Portia, 138, 139, 140, 141, 
142, 143, 149, 151, 152, 
153, 156, 157, 158, l60, 
161, 163, 167, 168, 169. 

205, 217. 

Pound of Flesh Story, The, 

137, 140, 143, 154. 
Prayer, The Christian, 156; 

The King at, 100-3. 
Pride, Cordelia's 260, 261, 

262, 275, 276-7, 278; 

Lear's 270, 272, 276-7; 

278; OtheUo's, 219, 229. 

230, 241. 
Prince, The Play and the 

(Hamlet), 32-4. 
Providence (God), 46, 73, 

121, 123, 124, 284, 286. 
Purgatory, 102, 103. 

Quarto, of Hamlet, 40. 
Queen, The (Gertrude), So, 

d6, 58, 59, 91, 95, 98, 103- 

107, 117, 295-8. 
Quinlan, M. A., 176. 

Race, Conflicts of, 143, 200, 

206, 210, 225, 226, 242. 
Cf\ also Marriage. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 169, 
181, 221, 222, 233, 281-2. 



Rapp, Moriz, 121. 

Ray, I., 272. 

Rebellion, of Fortinbras, 41, 
42, 48, 50, 54, 57, 76,77, 
78; of Laertes, 77, 110, 
111, 120. 

Reconciliation, Shylock*s 
pretence of, 153, 158, l64, 
l66; of Lear and Corde- 
lia, 275-9. 

Redemption, in Lear, 274-5, 
278, 279, 284, 286, 287. 

Religion, in Hamlet, 102, 
103, 123, 124; in Lear, 
2S6-S; in Merchant of 
Venice, 144, 146, 148, 
149, 154-5, 166. 

Remorse, of Claudius, 100; 
of Lear, 276-7, 278; of 
Othello, 236, 238. 

Retribution, in Hamlet, 87" 
88,90-1, 104,115-16,117; 
in Lear, 274, 280, 283, 
285 ; in Merchant of Ven- 
ice, 166: in Othello, 178, 
182, 184, 232, 236, 238, 
239. 

Return, Hamlet's, 112, 
113-14. 

Revenge, in Hamlet, 25, 29- 
30, 31, 34, 46, 55, 57-62, 
72, 76, 78, 79; in Mer- 
chant of Venice, 144, 151, 
156; in Othello, 191^ 194, 
215, 216-18, 232. Cf, 
also Avenger. 

Reynaldo, 85, 86. 



iTidex 



316 



Richardson^ William^ 101. 
Richard the Third, 125. 
Roderigo, 188, 194, 195, 

196, 211, 217, 218, 219, 

220, 226, 231. 
Romeo and Juliet, 40, QS, 

142, 153, 225; Romeo and 

Juliet, 142, 183-4, 201, 

202, 204, 239. 
Rose, Edward, 233. 
Rosecrantz and Guilden- 

stern, 5S, QS, 69, 81, 88- 

91, 106-7, 108, 112. 
Rymer, Thomas, 176, 177. 

wSanctuary, The right of, 

102. 
Sanity, of Hamlet, Q^, 64, 

65 y &Q, 70; of Lear, re- 
stored, 276. 
Saxo Grammaticus (Histo- 

ria Danica), 30, 31, 49, 

120, 125. 
Schlegel, A. W., 187, 207-8, 

249-250, 271. 
Schmidt, Alexander, 63. 
School-fellows, Hamlet's, 

88-91. 
Secrecy, Hamlet's, 34-6, 61. 
Self-restraint, Hamlet's, 24, 

31-2, 49, 56, 57, 77, 79, 

80, 93, 102, 105-6, 125. 
Self-sacrifice, H a m 1 e t's, 

118-19, 120, 124; Lear's 

pretence of, 256. 
Shakespeare, a dramatist 

not an historian, 255; an 



Elizabethan, 11, 15, 16, 
129, 255; and Christian- 
ity, 149, 157-8, 164, 285- 
87; and his age, 129, 132, 
135, 136, 147, 250, 255; 
and Homer, 288; and re- 
ligion, 126, 147, 287; Ar- 
tistic ideals of, 96-7; 
Character and destiny in, 
14, 233, 283; Character 
in drama of, 1 2 ; Character 
studies, 13; Children in, 
260, 262; Comedy and 
tragedy in, 97; Comments 
on plays, 194-5; con- 
scious, 187; Criticism 
gaining confidence in, 
288; Dramatic method of, 
137, 184-5, 225; Dramatic 
purpose, 175; Ethics of. 
149, 158; Ghosts in, 43; 
Historical plays of, 124, 
125; Humanity of, 147; 
Ideal king, 49, 79, 254; 
Ideal prince, 57, 124-6; 
Idealism of, 97; Insight 
of, 155, 281; Interpreta- 
tion of, 11-17, 28, 29; 
Judgment of, 248, 281, 
289; Life, not a mere 
portrayer of, 65, 250; 
Mind of, 136, 255; Moral 
dramatist, 40, 182, 183, 
253, 272-3, 281, 283, 
284; Moral faitli of, 
284; Passion, Experi- 
ments witli, 222-3, 2.U: 



316 



Index 



Patriotism of, 278; Philo- 
sophical thinker, 282; 
Supremacy of, 29^ 77^ 
180, 206/281, 283, 285; 
Teacher, 288; Tolerance, 
131, 132, 133. 135, 136. 

Shakespeare's opinions; Im- 
portance of, 179; Absolu- 
tism, 253-6, 257, 268, 
273; Acting, 96-7; Civili- 
zation, 240, 241, 242; 
Drama, 96-7 ; Favoritism, 
190, 191, 193, 198, 252; 
Hero, 48-9, 76-8, 79; 
Husband, Choice of, 201- 
202; Judaism, 132, 133, 
157; Kings, 253-4; Life, 
14, 28, 6d, 250, 287, 288; 
Love, 40, 168, 169, 279; 
Man and the world, 180; 
Peace and war, 41-2, 62, 
78, 110, 120, 125, 193; 
Warriors, 119. 193, 199, 
207. 

Shylock, and Antonio; C/. 
Antonio and Shylock; 
and Jessica, 140, 148; 
and the Bond. 140, 

143, 150-1, 154, 156, 
160, l6l ; and the play, 
ISO, 134, 137, 138, 139, 
144; as a comic person- 
age, 131, 132; as a Jew, 
130, 132, 133, 146, 148, 
149, 164; The attitude of, 
towards Christians, 140, 

144, 149, 150, 153, 154; 



The attitude of others to- 
wards 131, 132, 133, 134, 
135, 136, 137, 138, 147, 
164-5; The Character of, 
132, 133, 144, 146, 147, 
148, 156; The Motive of, 
144, 151, 154, 155, 156, 
165; The tragedy of, 131. 

Silence, Hamlet's, '34-6, 6l. 

Snider, D. J., 204, 234, 251, 
254, 256, 261. 

Social forces, 179-180, 183- 
184. 

Sources, Shakespeare's use 
of, 16, 29-30; Hamlet, 
26; 28-32, 39; Lear, 248- 
9, 277; Merchant of Ven- 
ice, 136-8; Othello, 194, 
195, 206, 225, 237-9, 
242. 

Spenser, Edmund, 277. 

Stage directions, 87, 102, 
205. 

Staging of First Scene of 
Hamlet, 291-3. 

Stedefeld, G. F., 121, 122. 

Stoll. E. E., 132, 146, 180, 
181-2, 188, 215. 

Story, in Shakespeare, 12, 
13, 29-30, 39, 60, 130, 
137, 169, 247, 255, 281, 
282. Cf. Narrative, and 
Plot. 

Swinburne, A. C, 287. 

Tate, Xahum, 284-5, 
Taylor, A. E., 286. 



Indew 



317 



Ten Brink, B., l64. 

Tennyson, Lord, 207, 219- 

Text, of Shakespeare, 15, 
16, 28-9. 

Theories of Hamlet, 23-6. 

Thorndike, A. H., 60. 

Title, and theme, of Lear, 
248-9, 251; Merchant of 
Venice, 137-8, 139, 141, 
142; Othello, 185, 186, 
187, 193, 236, 242. 

Titus Andronicus, The 
Moor in (Aaron), 205. 

Tragedy, in Shakespeare, 
60, 66, 67, 70, 97, 122, 
141, 206, 209, 222, 223, 
236-7, 240, 241, 264, 272- 
273, 281, 284. 

Traitors, in Shakespeare, 
88, 90, 91, 9S, 94, 115. 

** Trans formation, Ham- 

let's," 71-3, 74, 99. 

Tree, Sir Herbert, 66, 67, 
70. 

Trench, W. F., 99. 

Trial Scene, in Merchant of 



Venice, 138, 140, 154-9, 

160, 167. 

Ulrici, Hermann, 24, 121, 

221-2, 258. 
Unmasking of the King, 

116-17. 
Underplot, in Lear, 247, 

249-50, 251, 265-6, 268, 

284, 285. 
Usury. Cf. Interest. 

Vengeance. Cf, Revenge. 
Venice, 143, 154, 158, 159, 

161, 166, 185, 186, 193, 
194-5. 

Villain. Cf, Claudius, lago, 
etc. 

Walters, J. Cuming, 135. 
Ward, A. W., 135. 
Werder, Karl, on Hamlet, 

25-6, 49, 57, 61, 79, 82, 

100. 
Wilson, John, 206. 
Winter's Tale, The, 229, 

281. 
Wittenberg, 38, 52, 81, 122. 



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